Touch
by Route67
Summary: When Clark is kidnapped by an exclassmate, his life and relationships are all thrown on the line. What would you do if you couldn’t touch the ones you love?
1. One

**Touch**

* * *

**Title: **Touch 

**Rating: **T/PG-13 (for violence and peril)

**Summery: **When Clark is kidnapped by an ex-classmate, his life and relationships are all thrown on the line. What would you do if you couldn't touch the ones you love?

**Time-Frame: **Season 5: Just after "Solitude" and just before "Lexmas".

**Pairings: **I'm going with cannon in this story, so it's technically Clana, though there's plenty of friendship Chlark as well.

**Disclaimer: **Of course, I do not own any of the characters/places/names in Smallville.

**Feedback: **Oh definitely! I take all kinds of feedback. Even flames. So hit me with it. ;)

* * *

"Look at me when I'm talking to you-" 

"You have nothing left to say to me!"

CRASH! Three dinner plates hit the floor, sending the remains of the evening meal flying across the kitchen. Jonathan gritted his teeth, now twice as irritated, and began to mop the spaghetti sauce off the floor and cabinets. Clark stood stoically by, not speaking. Finally his father stood up again, throwing the sodden dish towel into the sink.

"You have no right to speak to me that way."

"And you have no right to assume you know what you're talking about when you don't!" Clark spat back.

"Clark-"

"No stop it! You don't care, Dad, you never cared."

Jonathan pointed a dangerous finger at his son. "Don't you say that. Don't you dare-"

"It's true, isn't it? Face it, you'll never be able to understand me. Ever." His fist hit the counter, denting it. "Ever!"

"Clark Kent!" Martha came in then, though whether the breaking dishes or loud voices had woken her first, Clark didn't know. He felt a twinge of guilt, seeing that she still looked tired.

"Mom, you should be resting," he mumbled, trying not to make eye-contact.

Martha's eyes were set on her son's face. "What's going on." She looked to her husband. "Jonathan?"

Jonathan's jaw was taut as he glanced at Martha then back to Clark. He opened his mouth to speak, but Clark dove in first. "Dad was just explaining to me why it is he's never around anymore."

"I seem to recall you saying that you thought I should run for Senator no matter what. What happened to that idea, huh? Cause it's too late to back out now, Clark."

"You know what? Fine. You go and be Senator, Dad, I'll just say my goodbyes now. The Metropolis TV crews are going to see you more than I am anyway."

Martha's face went pale. "Clark, what's wrong?"

Clark threw his hands up, exasperated. "Why do you guys insist on acting like you care so much? I know you don't, I know you think of me as an alien. I mean, it makes total sense to me, you don't have to treat me like I'm four."

"Clark." Jonathan came to stand in front of him, putting both hands on his shoulders, but Clark shoved them away, and stepped back.

"Just leave me alone," he whispered, shaking his head and looking down at his shoes.

"Clark, listen to me-"

"No!" He looked up at them both, fighting for the right words. "Just…just shut-up, okay? Just shut-up!" And he ran out the door.

Jonathan and Martha stood in silence for several moments. Martha's eyes finally left the kitchen door and she approached Jonathan instead. The moment she moved, he turned his back to her and started mopping up the spaghetti sauce again. "What happened?" she demanded quietly.

"I don't know," he replied, scrubbing the red stains out of the dishtowel he was holding. "He just…lost it."

"What did you say to him?"

"Nothing. I asked him why he so was quiet during dinner, he said he was fine. I told him that he wasn't fine, and that if he needed to talk I was here." Martha nodded, rubbing her husband's back gently. He sighed and pushed his palms against the edge of the counter, bracing his shoulders and staring down at the floor. "Then he asked why I was always gone, demanded why I couldn't be home on the weekends more often, you know, when he doesn't have school. I explained that between running for Senator and keeping up with the farm, I was just really busy." He laughed a little. "We can't all move at the speed of sound, right?"

Martha smiled. "What did he say?"

"He said, 'You're never around anymore, Dad, you're never there when I need you.' Well, I asked why this was coming up, what…what it was that I'd missed or forgotten about that was making him feel that way. Clark doesn't blow up like that without a very good reason, sweetheart."

"I know," she soothed. "Did he tell you what was really bothering him?"

"No, that's just it. He insisted that I didn't really care about him anymore, that I was becoming a stranger to him. That I didn't love him any…" he cleared his throat hard. "Anymore."

"Silver Kryptonite?"

He shook his head. "I don't know…he wasn't violent, Martha, but something…something's really getting to him."

Martha sighed, and patted him on the arm one last time. "We'll figure this out. I'm going to call Chloe, see if she knows anything."

"Yeah, maybe one of his teachers, too. Something might have happened today at school." She nodded, and went for the phone, but Jonathan touched her arm making her stop. "Sweetheart, you were supposed to be sleeping."

"I'm okay, Jonathan," she insisted, going to the phone and dialing. "It takes more than a Kryptonian virus to keep me away from you two." She got him to smile at that, and then jerked her head around to speak into the phone. "Hello, Chloe? Hi, it's Mrs. Kent."

- - - - -

Clark slammed the kitchen door and stormed at light-speed towards the barn. His temper was running so high, however, that he overshot the barn and went tearing across the cornfield, past the cemetery and off down the highway. The "Welcome To Smallville!" sign looked like a postage stamp as it whizzed past him, and soon all he could see were houses and fields. He didn't even know where he was until he finally came to a stop in the middle of the road, and saw Smallville Highschool just behind him and Walt Arnold Stadium just ahead.

He kicked angrily at the road, tearing a chunk out of the blacktop and sending it skidding into the ditch. Feeling a little guilty, Clark's anger cooled enough for him to stick his hands in his pockets and start walking instead. The argument was still running in his head over and over. He felt hurt, guilty, angry, frustrated…scared? Yeah, maybe a little.

Clark wasn't really in the mood for following rules and being discrete. As the sun set over his shoulder, he forced the front door of Smallville High open, and stepped inside. The darkening halls were completely deserted. Even the janitors and nigh owl studiers had gone home, being that it was Friday night. The setting sun made all the shiny wood floors look like they were glowing. He missed this place…things were easier when he was going to high school.

Slowly, he meandered down the empty hallways, between red and blue lockers, past doors that lead to classes he used to take…eventually, his subconscious led him to a familiar blue door. Clark smiled vaguely at the silver label above the door's window: "The Torch". He went inside.

Clark was surprised to realize that he hadn't actually been here since the last day of school. It looked sad and unfamiliar without Chloe's knickknacks and pinups decorating the desks and walls. It looked like the new Torch editor was a neat nick, since the only things that made the office looked used was a jar of pens, a stapler, a silver frame with a pretty-looking family of five inside, and a locker poster of Remy Zero tacked exactly in the middle of where the Wall of Weird used to be. Clark assumed the rest was tucked away in drawers and cupboards around the office. He sat down on the slick, orange couch and looked around gloomily, trying to think of something that didn't depress him so much. This was probably the wrong place to come. He sighed, rubbing his face with his palms, and stood up.

"Don't go on my account." He looked up suddenly, then smiled in spite of his mood.

"Chloe, hi. Umn…what're you doing here?"

She studied him keenly, as though looking for something, then shrugged, rolling a chair across the room from the desk and sitting down to face the orange couch. Clark sat back down. "Your mom called me. Said you weren't acting like yourself."

Clark felt a little annoyed, that funny twinge of guilt returning. "Yeah, I…my dad and I had a fight. And-" He sighed loudly, his irritation showing through. "Please don't give me that whole 'Oh, the Kents fight sometimes?' because you know we do, and I get so sick of everyone thinking that my parents and I never argue, like we're perfect. We're not."

"Umn, okay," Chloe said, smiling just a little. "Clark…you okay?"

Clark groaned into his hands again. "Yeah, umn…I'm sorry, Chloe. I just…it was a really bad argument. I-" He rolled his eyes. "I said 'shut-up' to them. I mean, how juvenile is that? The worst part is the whole thing was my fault."

"Clark, you think everything's your fault," Chloe raised her eyebrows at him, and he let himself laugh just a little. "Listen…it's not Silver K, right?" She leaned forward, trying to meet his eyes. "Cause you seem okay, but your parents…they're really worried."

"No, no, it's not- they really thought it was Kryptonite?" Now he felt really guiltily. The idea of acting on purpose like he had under Silver Kryptonite made him feel a little queasy. Had he really been that out of control? Looking back, he supposed he had. He felt terrible.

"So what's bothering you?" …but not so terrible he was ready to open up.

"You know, Chloe, I just don't really want to talk about it." He stood up abruptly.

"Okay, hey, hey-" she stood up too, grabbing his elbow. "You don't have to tell me what's going on. I just thought…you look like you could really use some company. You want to talk? We haven't talked in awhile."

Clark shrugged and let Chloe ease them both onto the couch again. "Sure we have."

"Not since we were beamed back from the Fortress, and that was like a week ago. Hey- how's your mom doing, by the way?"

Again, he shrugged. "Okay, I guess. She's sort of tired lately." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "The burns and scars from the virus are gone, but she's still not back to normal, physically. She hides it. I hate it that she hides it, like I need to be protected or something."

"She's really strong, Clark. She's going to be okay." Chloe squeezed his arm, but it didn't seem to make him feel any better. He clearly didn't want to talk about his parents at all, so Chloe made for a hasty segue. "Well no wonder you're depressed," she waved an arm at the empty Torch. "This place is a tomb."

Clark smiled ruefully. "Yeah, I really don't know why I picked here. Hey, how'd you know where to find me?"

"Your dad saw that you didn't go to the barn, and I figured you'd probably either come here or Loeb Bridge. It was a shot in the dark, really. At your speed, you go missing and it could take three plane tickets to track you down."

Clark looked up at the dark ceiling of the office. "This place sure looks different now."

"Yeah. I need to have some words with the Martha Stuart running it," Chloe said, rolling her eyes. "She doesn't even have Post-It notes. Betcha she's one of those tidy little pocket-planner types."

"You have a pocket-planner." Clark jabbed a finger at her purse. She pretended to be defensive.

"Yes, but…I make up for it by leaving one cup of day-old coffee on each computer desk." She was proud of herself for getting a genuine laugh out of him, but the moment the talking stopped, his shoulders fell a little, his face paled, his eyes gazed downward. "Ah, Clark," she whispered, rubbing his shoulder. "You look so miserable. Is there anything I can do?"

"No. Thanks, Chloe." He didn't even look at her. "I should…I should get home, I guess. I don't want my parents to get worried."

"Yeah. Okay." They stood up. Clark was about to run out the door, but he hesitated. Chloe smiled at him. "Don't feel obligated to walk like a mortal, Roadrunner. I feel like a stroll anyways." A breeze burst through the room, throwing Chloe's hair in her face, and Clark was gone. Chloe sat back down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. She supposed she should call Lana and let her know she'd be in Metropolis late, but even as she flipped her phone open held down the #3 button, her thoughts were with Clark and his sad eyes. And how he hadn't been the same since Jor-El returned his powers.

- - - - -

_Clark…Clark Kent. I bet that she doesn't know who you really are, Clark. I bet she doesn't realize how imperfect you've been, the mistakes you're making. You know how to hate. You're bitter, aren't you, Clark? Yeah…you're definitely bitter._

Curtis Jaye sat in the cabinet beside the coffee table in The Torch, knees drawn to his chest. His breath echoed loudly in the small space, and he smiled to himself at the conversation he'd just heard. Chloe had left probably twelve minutes ago, but he preferred to be on the safe side. Girls always forgot stuff and had to rush back five minutes later, and sure enough, Chloe returned twice; once for her purse, once for her jacket. He was smart, he thought, and coughed to himself. Yeah, tell that to the board of education at Smallville High.

Finally, feeling he'd waited long enough, he shoved against the door of the cabinet, walked to the orange couch and sat down, staring at the ceiling. He didn't think it was that gloomy in here…but then again, he was suddenly in a very good mood.

"On your way home, huh Clark? Gee, that's too bad." He tapped his toes against the floor excitedly. "I sort of was thinking you could come to my house tonight."

- - - - -


	2. Two

- - - - -

Clark only made it as far as Cleft Field, out in front of the KROW FM Radio Station. He stood, staring across dead corn stalks and spiky, leafless trees, all the way to the red pinprick in the distance he knew was his barn. A cold feeling that had nothing to do with the weather came over him. He was afraid to go home. That had never happened before.

He crossed his arms, watched his breath come out in a mist ahead of him. He realized he wasn't actually afraid of going home, per-se. He really wanted to apologize to his parents, since they deserved at least that much. Unfortunately, with the apology inevitably would come the need for an explanation, and…well, there was no way he was going to explain what was really bothering him.

He bit his lower lip, scuffing his shoes in the dry dirt. He couldn't stay out here forever. Maybe he could go to his loft and wait till his parents were sleeping, sneak inside and spend the night on the couch. He could go to Metropolis the next morning, leave a note- what was he thinking?

Clark started walking across the field. How could he even consider taking off on his parents with nothing but a note to explain himself? He would apologize, say he'd just been upset, worried about his mom, about Jor-El…which wouldn't technically be a lie, since he was always worried about those things.

Clark was halfway through the dead forest between Cleft Field and the Kent farm when he heard it. A soft, whimpering was coming from his left. At first it sounded like an animal scratching around in the dirt, but Clark inclined his head towards the sound and his sensitive ears picked up the voice of young boy. "Help me, please…h-help…"

Clark tore through the trees, slowing down several feet from the sound so he could approach normally. "Hello?" The trees opened up into a clearing, and he stood in the center, looking in every direction, straining for the sound again. Then he heard a heartbeat- to the left? No, behind him- no, to his right…it kept moving, running around the clearing on quiet feet. "Hello? Anyone there?"

"Who's there?" Clark spun around to face the sound, but saw only dark shadows behind him.

"I'm Clark," he told the voice, which sounded like the little boy he was looking for. "Are you okay?"

"Clark?" The boy's voice, he realized, was unusually high. Doubt entered at the back of his mind, but he kept talking, walking slowly forward.

"Are you lost?" Squinting into the dark patch of forest, everything turned blue and black before his eyes. The skeleton of the boy huddled just within the tree-line, hands behind his back.

"No, I'm not lost."

"Then what's wrong?" Clark focused on seeing through the boy's body, but by the time he saw the green glow, it was too late.

The boy leaped out of the shadows, and Clark realized he wasn't a boy at all, but a young man about Clark's own age. In his hand, he clutched a chunk of Kryptonite about the size of a softball, and he used it to smack Clark hard on the chest, knocking him to the ground. "Got a present for you, Kent."

Clark tried to crawl away before the Kryptonite had a chance to get to him, but all ready his body was convulsing painfully, and he rolled weakly onto his side as the stranger stood over him. "What do you want." He gritted out through clenched teeth.

The young man crouched down beside him, stuffing the glowing rock into Clark's jacket pocket. He smiled nastily as Clark let out a groan of pain. "Want to see something cool, Clark?" the stranger asked, flipping Clark onto his back and hauling him a few inches off the ground by his shirtfront. And before Clark could register that the stranger's face was familiar, a fist flew at him. First he saw white light, then darkness…then nothing at all.

- - - - -

"Uh-huh…the high school? Really?…Yeah. Sure, yeah…On his way. You sure?…I see." Jonathan paced the kitchen in as wide an arc as the phone cord would allow. Martha was at the table with a book, but she'd shut it a half hour ago. Jonathan finally came to stand by the refrigerator, absently twirling the phone cord around his finger. "Yeah, okay. No, no Chloe I don't want you to do that. I'm sure Clark's just…uh-huh…yeah, I'm sure he's just fine." He laughed unconvincingly into the receiver. "You're probably right. Yep…thanks, Chloe, drive safe. Yeah, bye." He hung up and strode to the table, sitting slowly into a chair, never really taking his mind off the phone.

"Chloe says she found him at the high school almost two hours ago. She said he seemed upset about something, but didn't want to talk about it. They chatted a little, then he said he should get home so we wouldn't worry." He shook his head, looking discouraged. "Two hours…"

Martha leaned across the table and squeezed his hand. "Sweatheart, I'm sure he's fine. I mean…he's Clark."

Jonathan massaged his face with his palms and nodded. "That's what Chloe said, but I'm not worried about Clark's safety, Martha."

"What are you worried about?" He stood up out of his chair and paced to the kitchen window, shoulders tense. Martha watched him quietly, her question all ready answered. "Oh Jonathan…"

"That look on his face, Martha…Those things he said-"

"He was angry."

"He was right."

She went to stand next to him, grabbing his shoulder. "No, he wasn't." He looked away. "You understand him better than anyone, Jonathan…Clark wouldn't run away. You know that."

"Do I? Martha, the last time we had a fight like this he stole Red Kryptonite and disappeared to Metropolis, and I…I don't know." He stared out the window for a moment, then ran his hand over the huge dent Clark and his temper had left in the counter. "There are certain things…I hate the feeling that there are some things I can't protect him from. Things that I'm not equipped to do for him, and I think what's bothering Clark is that he's realized that. He knows that when it comes to the really difficult things in his life, he's on his own." His voice cracked a little as he spoke next, and Martha's heart skipped a beat. "He's scared, Martha."

"Oh honey-" she went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him gently. "Clark loves you. He looks up to you more than anyone. And yes, he knows you have limits, but has limits too. There are so many things that he still needs you to show him, Jonathan."

Jonathan closed his eyes, and pressed his cheek to the top of Martha's head, sighing into her hair. "Well…we should wait up for him for at least another hour."

Martha squeezed him tightly. "Okay."

- - - - -

"C'mon, sleepyhead, up and at 'um!"

Clark felt someone slapping his cheek lightly and jerked his head to the side, eyes opening and shutting rapidly. A bright light was gushing down on him and it hurt his head to look at it. Squinting hard, he tried to lift his head, completely disoriented. "Dad?"

"Sorry to disappoint, Kent." Curtis' face came into focus, and Clark let out a quiet groan. "Daddy's not here right now." A million questions filled his head, but only one made to his mouth.

"What time is it?" Curtis tilted his watch towards Clark's face. 1:07 am. His parents were going to be worried sick.

"I hate it how mama's boy you are, Kent," Curtis scoffed, walking outside of Clark's line of vision. "It's just sickening sometimes."

Clark tried a second time to raise his head, and realized he couldn't. In fact, he wasn't moving at all. Still squinting into the blue-white light over his head, he tried to figure out where he was. It appeared he was in someone's basement, lying on a large slab of plywood that had been set over a table. His immobility was explained when he realized he was anchored to the tabletop with twist ties strung through holes poked on either side of his wrists and ankles. Confused, he tried to yank himself free, but the wires held. The table made a funny rattling noise under him. He tried to reach the knots under the board, but his fingers brushed a cold, metal bar that blocked his attempts. Frustrated, he tried to look around again.

"Wondering how it is that Super Kent can't snap a twist tie?" Curtis reappeared wearing a black denim jacket and a look of feigned concern. "Things are about to get kind of rough for you, Clark. I know about the meteor rock and how it effects you. Did you really think everyone would be stupid enough to miss the clues? The way you get all queasy whenever you're around the stuff? It's so pathetically obvious." He patted Clark's hand and he clenched it into a fist, trying to pull away. "If you crunch meteor rock into powder and dissolve it salt water…well, you dip something in that, and I could restrain you with a piece of dental floss."

"What do you want, Curtis."

"Oh, so you do remember me!" He stood up, looking pleased. "Good, this will make it very straight-forward. People hate me, Clark. I don't have any friends, never have."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Clark muttered, still silently fighting his bonds.

"Yeah, not as sorry as you'll be when you find out how I've taken all that pent up anger and frustration on you." Curtis laughed, pulling a chair up next to the table, and sitting down, mouth just inches from Clark's ear. "Did I ever tell you I took advanced chem? Nah, of course not, why would you have noticed what I was doing for school?" He sighed almost cheerfully. "Yeah, umn, no one knew, actually, because no one cared. But it turns out I'm great at chemistry. I…invented some things, even." He scooted his chair a little closer. "You and I are like twins, Clark, you're just better at hiding your real feelings. That's the only reason she likes you, you know."

"Who?" Clark demanded quietly, but Curtis just sat back and laughed again.

"Let's save the chit-chat for later. I'm going to let you go in a minute here, and if you want some answers, you can always come back. First, do you know what Phenethylamine is? No? How about Catecholamine?" He chuckled. "And here I thought you were straight-A."

"Curtis, listen to me-"

"Let's put it in layman's terms for you," he interrupted loudly. "There are chemicals in your brain that illicit certain reactions in your body. They control your emotions, your reflexes, your sensations- with me, Kent? So I made a special little elixir compiled of these chemicals." He held up a vial of almost clear, greenish liquid. "Now for an ordinary person, this stuff would probably send them into paranoia, furry, depression, and eventually plant them in Bell Reeve. But we know you're not ordinary, and neither is the meteor rock I added." He dangled the vial by Clark's face, smiling when Clark leaned away. "The meteor rock bonds with the chemicals in your brain, causing your senses and emotions to get conflicting signals. Instead of the proper reaction you're meant to have to a corresponding emotion, you will get the same feelings you have around meteor rock when those emotions occur."

Clark had finally given up on the twist ties, and his heart pounded hard in his ears. He wasn't sure what Curtis was getting at, but he'd clearly gone off the deep end since graduation. "Curtis, I can see you're angry-"

"When you touch people, Clark? People you love?" He licked his lips maliciously, looking crazed in the dim shadows. "It's going to hurt. It's going to hurt like someone put a meteor rock down your throat. Cause see, when you're brain tries to convey relief, happiness, comfort…love." (he spat this last word) "It's going to connect with the chemicals that make up a meteor rock instead." He stood up, shoving the chair away. "Basically? You'll never be able to touch your friends or parents again."

Clark swallowed all the panic that had risen to the surface as Curtis spoke, and valiantly calmed his voice down. "Listen, Curtis…listen to me. You don't get it. That meteor rock? It doesn't just make me feel sick, it can…it can kill me." Perhaps he shouldn't have told him that, but Curtis had been a classmate. Maybe he was angry, but there was no way his plans had included murder.

Curtis shrugged, and Clark's heart began to pound harder. "Clark, one little dose is not going to kill you. It will hopefully enlighten you, though, give you an idea of what it's like."

"What what's like?"

"What I'M like, Kent," Curtis snapped impatiently, snatching up the vial and walking out of Clark's eyeshot. "The only reason she likes you is because she thinks you're something you're not. She thinks you're some pillar of positive attributes all rolled into one, humble farm boy. She just hasn't seen you under stress, that's all. Wait till she sees you now."

Clark was only half listening and didn't bother trying to figure out who he was talking about. "Curtis, listen to me. You do this, you shoot that stuff into my system, and it will overload. I'll die, I promise you. You don't want to kill anybody."

"You're right I don't." He came like a bad dream out of the shadows, leaning down till he was just inches from Clark's face. "But you're not going to die. Cause it's all ready in your system."

- - - - -


	3. Three

- - - - -

"Chloe, is that you?"

Chloe cringed and set her purse down on the floor with a dull thump. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

The light across the room turned on, and a sleep-tousled Lana squinted at her, smiling. "No, it's okay. I was sort of having trouble sleeping anyway. So…how's Clark?"

Chloe crossed to her bed and sat down, kicking her boots off. "I don't know. He's not himself, though. He seems really…unhappy, I guess."

"Must be going around. Lex isn't in the best mood lately either." Lana straitened up, running her fingers through her messy hair.

"This isn't 'had a lousy day' unhappy, this is 'forgetting to put on my socks' kind of a thing."

"Seriously?" Lana looked genuinely worried. Chloe realized that was refreshing to see. Sometimes Lana and Clark's relationship really frustrated her on both their behalf.

"Yeah, I went to talk to him- found him at Smallville High, just sitting around in The Torch. He had his shoes on, but no socks." She shook her head, flopping onto the bed and staring at the ceiling awhile. "The worst part is, from what Mrs. Kent told me, he kind of took it out on the both of them."

"His parents?"

"Yeah, I was shocked too. Clark-loyal-son-Kent? It just doesn't seem right."

"Well, there was that weird incident just a few weeks ago, remember. I mean, Clark went crazy."

"But I told you, Lana," Chloe insisted, sitting up. "It was that silver meteor rock that you and Lex found."

"And lost," Lana added sullenly.

"Yeah. But it's not like it's the first time someone's gone uncharacteristic on us over a meteor rock."

"It's just not usually Clark."

"No, I guess it's not. Still, he's got just as much excuse to go 'normal day in Smallville' on us as anyone." She stood up and hung her jacket up on the hook by the closet, then paused, thoughts suddenly elsewhere. "He's going to be okay…I just wish I could do more for him. He won't open up to me."

"People keep secrets for a reason, Chloe." Chloe turned around, smiling.

"Well that's something I never thought I'd hear out of you."

Lana laughed lightly. "Yeah…you know, Clark once told me, back when I was first getting to know him, that he was the Fort Knox of secrets. I guess I didn't realize then how serious he was. But…now I have all these secrets of my own. Suddenly, I'm realizing how selfish it is to insist upon unconditional honesty."

"You're not selfish, Lana."

"Yeah, I am." Lana shrugged, pulling her knees to her chin, and smiling. "But Clark would be the first to say that people can change, right?"

Chloe smiled back, and tossed a handful of hairclips onto her dresser. "Yeah."

- - - - -

Clark's head lolled back and forth over the seat as the car rumbled beneath him. His chest throbbed painfully where Curtis had stuffed a thin piece of Kryptonite under his shirt. His hands were duct taped in front of him, but he couldn't move his arms anyway. "Curtis," he gritted out as they hit another notch in the road. "Please, you have to…"

"Shh…Clark, c'mon," Curtis looked over his shoulder into the backseat and smirked. "Shouldn't you save your strength?"

"Curtis, you need help. There's no way-"

"No way that I can make a vat of green stuff that magically causes pain when people you like touch you?" He laughed. "Yeah, it sounds crazy, but I'm not insane. You'll see, Clark."

"The…the meteor rock-" Clark groaned, his whole body tensing at another wave of nausea. "Curtis, you've got to take it off me."

"We're almost there, Clark, don't worry."

Perhaps five minutes later, they came to a stop. Curtis got out and came around the side, opening the door by Clark's head. He hauled him out of the backseat, letting him fall, sprawling, into the middle of the road. Kneeling down next to him, he shoved Clark's cell phone in between his bound hands.

"There you go. I told you I'm not insane. Give your worried folks a call, Clark. I'm sure they'll come and get you. But tell them about what I did, about my special elixir, and you'll go down for breakfast tomorrow and find a camera crew from Metropolis wondering why the Kansas farm boy gets sick around space rocks. Tell anyone else you like." He shrugged. "They'll just want to know the same thing, anyway. But don't tell mommy and daddy." He slapped Clark on the shoulder like they were buddies. Clark winced, trying to hang onto his cell phone.

Curtis walked back to the car, climbed in, and called out the open window, "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Clark!" then drove off down the road.

Hands shaking, Clark held down the #2 button on his phone and pushed it as close to his ear as he could. It rang. And rang. And rang…the thought that his parents may not be speaking to him briefly crossed his mind, and then the other end picked up, and Clark felt bad for considering the idea.

"Hello?" a tired voice answered.

Clark panted hard into the receiver, trying to work up the energy to speak. "D…dad-"

"Clark?" Jonathan sounded relieved. "Clark, where are you? We've been worried sick-"

"Dad…help- me. I'm…" with a surge of panic, Clark realized he didn't know where he was. He tried to look around, but all he saw was a field across from him and trees around him. "It's…Kryptonite. I can't-" he convulsed, almost dropping the phone.

"Kryptonite. Clark- Clark, where are you?!" He heard his mom gasp in the background.

Squinting desperately into the distance, Clark suddenly realized there was a windmill far off, in the middle of the field ahead of him. "The road…Chandler- ah! Dad!"

"On the road where? By Chandler's Field?"

Clark wanted badly at that moment to apologize for that evening's argument. To tell his father- well, a lot of things. But he couldn't find the energy to stay awake anymore. His eyes shut and the phone fell limply from his hands.

- - - - -

"Clark!" Jonathan paused for a fragment of a second, then hung up the phone and ran to the front door.

"Jonathan, is it Kryptonite?" Martha ran to the door with him, grabbing her coat off the hook and throwing it on over her nightgown.

"That's what he said."

"Where is he?!"

"I don't know! He said in the road, I think he's near Chandler's Field." They ran to the truck, gunned up the engine and sped away. Dirt road turned to paved road and Martha was suddenly reminded that they lived roughly ten minutes from Chanlder's Field.

"Jonathan-"

"He's going to be okay," Jonathan said sternly, and he pressed the gas a little harder. Finally, Martha sat suddenly forward in her seat.

"Jonathan!"

"I see him!" Jonathan pulled the truck to a wrenching stop, and both of them climbed out of the car and ran down the road. Lying just feet away, Clark was sprawled motionless across the blacktop. Both parents knelt quickly beside him. Martha lifted her son's head into her lap as Jonathan's hands scrambled through Clark's pockets looking for the Kryptonite. Then he noticed the dull glow under Clark's shirt, and snatched the rock out, pitching it as hard as he could across the road into Chandler's Field.

"Jonathan, he's barely breathing," Martha said shakily.

Jonathan pulled his Swiss Army knife out of his jacket pocket, cutting the tape around Clark's wrists. "C'mon, Clark," he whispered, pressing shaking fingers to his son's neck. "He has a pulse…it's weak, but it's there."

Martha picked up his cell phone and shut it, slipping it into her pocket. "Should we move him? Jonathan?"

Jonathan seemed to be jerked from his thoughts. "What? Uh- yeah…yeah, I guess we-"

"Jonathan," Martha whispered, putting a hand on his knee. "This isn't your fault."

He shook his head. "This is exactly what I was-"

"It's not your fault," she repeated firmly, and this time he nodded.

"Let's get him into the truck."

Between the two of them, they managed to pull him into the middle seat of the truck. By 2:48 am, they were driving back down the long road, away from Chandler's Field. Clark's head lay in Martha's lap and she ran her fingers through his hair, thoughts far away.

Jonathan glanced over at her, then back at the road. "Feels like the day we brought him home, doesn't it?"

"Only I wasn't so worried about him then," Martha said quietly as Clark flinched suddenly under her fingers. "Clark?" She leaned over him. "Sweetheart, can you hear me?" Clark groaned in his sleep, his face troubled. "Jonathan, there's something wrong, his pulse isn't getting any stronger."

"We just need to get him home," Jonathan assured her. They finally reached the Kent Farm sign, and drove up their dirt driveway. Jonathan hoisted Clark over his shoulder and managed to carry him into the house and lay him on the couch. "I don't think I can get him up the stairs to his room. Can you get some blankets?" Martha nodded, and ran upstairs to the linen closet. Jonathan knelt beside the couch, watching his son lie, now completely still. He didn't look so troubled now.

"Here you go," Martha came back down the stairs, holding an armload of bedding. They propped his head up on his own pillow and covered him with two red polar fleece blankets.

"He seems like he's doing okay now," Jonathan told her. "You should get some sleep."

"No, I'll stay-"

"It's okay, Martha. I'm not really tired now anyway, you go on to bed. I'll get some sleep when I know he's okay. Clark wouldn't want you staying up all night, you need some rest." Hesitantly, Martha agreed and kissing her son on the forehead, went to bed.

- - - - -

"Morning, sleepyhead. Up and at 'um!" Clark sat up suddenly as though yanked from a bad dream. "Woah, easy there!" He blinked hard in the bright sunlight and realized it wasn't Curtis standing next to him, but his father. "Dad…" he rubbed his eyes hard, then gazed blearily around the room. "How long was I out?"

"We got home about three in the morning, and it's-" he looked down at his watch. "11:13 pm."

"Wow…really?"

"Well, son," Jonathan sat down on the coffee table as Clark pushed himself into a sitting position. "We found you in the middle of the highway with Kryptonite shoved under your shirt. When have you ever just snapped out of something like that?" He leaned forward then, fixing his son with a penetrating stare. Clark was sure he was about to bring up their argument, but instead he said, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…" Clark's guilt rose a notch. Even now, all his father cared about was his own safety. That argument was sounded worse and worse the further he got from it.

"Clark?" Martha came running into the living room, and sat down on the couch next to him, bright with excitement. "Are you okay? Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine, Mom," he smiled reassuringly.

Martha glanced at Jonathan who continued to stare at Clark. Finally, he asked the most obvious question. "Who did this to you, Clark. What happened?"

Curtis, his Kryptonite elixir and his threat about telling his parents anything came suddenly flooding back. He still wasn't sure he believed Curtis, as far as the chemistry experiment went. It wasn't possible to single out emotions to illicit a Kryptonite-like response. He didn't care if the young man was a genius, it just didn't make sense. However, Curtis hadn't said anything about keeping Clark's abduction a secret, so he told his parents about running into him in the woods and how Curtis had used Kryptonite to subdue him. Jonathan's face turned dark and angry when he mentioned how Curtis had dipped twist ties in dissolved Kryptonite to tie him down.

"So basically, he knows your secret?"

"No, not really." Clark shrugged uncomfortably. "But…he knows about the meteor rocks and how the make me feel, and he may know about some of my powers." Seeing the worried expressions on both their faces, he added, "He called me Super Kent, but that doesn't mean he knows. He just…might have an idea."

"So he kidnapped you," Jonathan said slowly, "vented his frustration about his life to you, drove to Chandler's Field, threw you out of the car with Kryptonite and gave you your cell phone so you could call us."

"Yeah." Clark felt bad lying, but what was the point in explaining Curtis' idle threats about poisoning him somehow? So long as he didn't tell his parents about it, Clark would be able to track Curtis down and then if it came up later, it wouldn't matter.

"I just don't get it," Jonathan insisted. "Why would he bother abducting you just to yell at you for a little while, then throw you back?"

Clark shrugged. "I guess…he just wanted me to know how he felt. We used to go to school, you know, I guess…maybe he picked me out just because he knew that he could get me there easily, because of the meteor rocks he had."

"Where were you, anyway?"

"I don't know…" Clark shook his head. "We were in a garage, or a basement. But when he gave me the Kryptonite, everything got sort of hazy. I just remember him dragging me up some stairs, out a door and into the car." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded. He did his best to be the picture of certainty. "Don't worry. I'll find him."

"No." Jonathan stood up. "You're not going near this kid, not while he has Kryptonite."

"What else can I do? It's better than having him on the loose."

"There has to be another way-"

"Okay, okay." Martha stood up. "We're all a little tired, Clark hasn't had anything to eat today, you still have chores to do." She squeezed Jonathan's elbow. "I'm going to go make you two some pancakes, we'll figure something out later, okay?"

Clark nodded, grateful, and Jonathan agreed as well. Martha went to the kitchen, and Clark stood up, stretching his aching limbs. One of the worst parts of long-term exposure to Kryptonite was how fatigued it made him feel in the mornings.

"Son, don't worry about your chores, I all ready fed the cows and repaired both gates."

"Sorry," Clark sighed, shaking his head. "You didn't have to do that."

"Hey." Jonathan stood in front of him. "I can take a few extra chores if you can promise not to scare me like that again."

Clark smiled ruefully. "Yeah. Okay." Jonathan thumped him on the shoulder. Clark winced painfully, taking a step back.

"Clark?"

"No, it's okay. I just…feel a little sore."

Jonathan nodded understandingly. "Nothing like a Kryptonite hangover. Well, hang in there." And he went out the back door to finish his chores.

Clark's heart pounded loudly in his ears, but he tried to calm himself. He was feeling sore today, that was the truth. Nothing wrong with that. He walked slowly into the kitchen, standing in the doorway and watching Martha at work by the stove. Quietly, almost silently, he approached her, hand outstretched.

He hesitated. What was wrong with him? Was he really going to believe Curtis, the crazy chemist? No. It simply wasn't possible. Satisfied, his hand stopped shaking, and he set it gently on Martha's shoulder. She whirled around when he jerked his hand back as though he'd been burned.

"Clark! You scared me, what's wrong?"

"Oh…nothing, I just- uh," he rubbed his hand. "I was wondering…did Chloe call?"

"Yeah, she called this morning. We told her about how we found you, she wanted to come straight over." Martha smiled fondly. "But I told her that you'd give her a call when you woke up."

"Okay…yeah, I'll give her a call. Thanks, Mom."

"Sweetheart, are you sure you're okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

- - - - -


	4. Four

- - - - -

Chloe shoved some papers across the desk, sighing. She'd been unable almost all morning to concentrate on her work. Dully, she spun around to her computer, and fired up the emailer. "Your Inbox has 0 unread messages". She flipped her phone open for the fifth time. No messages.

"Chloe?" She looked up, and the worry fell away suddenly.

"Clark!" Chloe jumped out of her chair, coming across the room to him. "Clark, I've been so worried about you." He held up his hands and stepped back suddenly causing her to stop. "Clark, what's wrong?"

"Umn…can we talk?"

Confused, Chloe led him down to the boiler room. "The only thing lower than the basement," she teased, but he didn't smile. Unable to hold back her curiosity, she started speaking the moment the door was shut behind them. "Clark, what happened to you? How'd you end up in the middle of the road with Kryptonite? Who did it?"

"Chloe, this is going to be really bizarre, but stick with me."

She shook her head. "I'm the queen of bizarre."

And so he related the story- the whole story this time. Curtis had told him he could tell anyone besides his parents about the experiment. He clearly didn't know that Chloe knew about his secret as well. It felt good to relate the entire escapade to someone. Chloe was a great listener, and nodded, saying nothing until he was finished.

"And it- really did hurt when you touched your parents?" He nodded seriously. "Are you sure it wasn't just your imagination?"

"No. No, when my dad touched me it felt like someone punched me in the stomach. And I barely touched Mom, but I might as well have dipped my hand in that Kryptonite Gatorade those cheerleaders spiked, remember that?"

"As much as I'd like to relive my cheerleading days, Clark, there's a really simple way to test this theory." She shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable, but powering on anyway. "It's supposed to be people you care about, right? The ones that hurt you." He nodded. "Well…you could touch me." She hated putting it that way, it seemed so presumptuous, but Clark accepted immediately.

"Yeah, that's a good idea." He approached her hesitantly. Chloe felt suddenly scared, hoping that this theory was wrong. That she wasn't about to hurt her best friend.

"Ready?" She held her hands up in the air.

"Yeah." Clark took a final step towards her, and she planted both hands on his forearms. The result was instantaneous. He collapsed suddenly, wincing in pain, wrenching his arms out of her grip. Chloe let go as quickly as she could, kneeling beside him. It only took moments for Clark to recover, and he sat up, panting, looking around as though disoriented.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Chloe soothed, wanting to squeeze his shoulder or pat his knee, but keeping her distance instead.

"It's okay, I'm okay," Clark promised, pushing himself carefully to his feet, and running his hands over his face and through his hair. "He wasn't lying," he said despondently. "What do I do?"

"I'm sure there's a way to reverse it, we just-"

"We just need to find him." Clark suddenly looked darkly determined.

"Clark, he has Kryptonite."

"What else am I supposed to do?" He kicked a stack of pipes angrily and they bent double at the impact. Chloe flinched at the loud noise.

"Tell you what…let's look into Curtis, see what he's been doing since graduation."

"Chloe-"

"Hey." She smiled at him. "Let's just begin at square one and work our way up. We'll figure this out, Clark."

As they left the boiler room, Chloe couldn't help wondering why this was angering him so much. Obviously, it was worth getting upset over, but Clark was never the type to fly off the handle at the first rock in the road. Something else was getting to him. She sighed, sitting down at her computer, Clark hovering over her shoulder. Her concern-for-Clark-o-meter just went up another three notches.

- - - - -

"No, that's okay, Mrs. Kent. I'll give his cell a call. Yeah…mhm…thanks. You too. Bye." Lana hit the end call button on her phone and went for speed dial. She paused. She wasn't sure she wanted to call Clark, really. Things between them had gotten so weird recently, and she wasn't even sure why.

Lana flopped onto her bed, sending her astronomy homework flying. Okay, so she had an idea why. It could have something to do with her getting turned into a vampire and nearly killing him and then him getting bit by silver meteor rock and going insane. She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. What a month.

But the real turning point, and the most draining and incredible experience she'd had all that year, was the day Smallville was threatened with a nuclear missile attack. The day that Clark was shot and died. And then, bewildered and terrified with grief, she walked into his parents' kitchen to find him standing there. Just- standing there. Alive.

To this day, Lana had never asked the Kents how Clark could possibly have gotten from the sheet-covered gurney at Smallville Medical to his own kitchen in just twenty minutes, brought back to life somewhere in between. She always assumed that he'd awoken from his coma, and of course, the first place he went was home. She was comfortable with assuming that it'd been a miracle. Smallville had almost as many of those as they did catastrophes.

However, despite the fact that that was probably the most beautiful and memorable moment of her life, running to Clark, holding him close again, knowing that she wasn't going to lose him after all…ever since that day, he'd been different. Distant, even. As his officially declared girlfriend, she felt like she should be supportive and useful, if she could. Unfortunately, Clark didn't talk about his feelings. Like- ever. Again, Lana rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Fort Knox.

Still, he'd just been the victim of another unexplainable disaster, and her concern (if not curiosity) far outweighed her suspicions or frustrations. Sighing, she flipped her phone open again, and dialed Clark's number from memory before remembering to just use her speed dial. It rang.

"Hey, Lana." He sounded a little tired, but genuinely happy to hear her ring-tone.

"Clark, your mom told me about what happened. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Who was it? I mean, did you see him?"

"Chloe and I are following some leads right now. I'll fill you in later." Lana almost said 'no you won't', but chose not to. Still, she was right. Clark didn't like getting her involved in his problems. It was both sweet and frustrating.

"Yeah, okay," was all she said. "So, your mom sounds like she's doing better."

"She's really strong, she's going to be fine."

"That's good." Lana hated all this small-talk. She was bursting to ask a million things. Why would someone kidnap Clark? Why did they just let him go like that? If he wasn't hurt, why did his parents have to drive out at two o'clock in the morning to pick him up and then keep him home from school the next day?

Maybe Clark knew what was on her mind, maybe he was just a good guesser. Either way, she heard him smile on the other end. "I'm okay, Lana, don't worry. And I will tell you what Chloe and I are looking into, when I see you. Can we meet somewhere?"

Lana's heart pounded excitedly, and she realized just how badly she'd like to see him. "Yeah, uh…well, I guess if you're with Chloe, you're here in Metropolis?"

"Yeah, we're at The Planet right now."

"Well how about that coffee shop just down the road from there? The Mocha-"

"The Cocoa Mocha?"

"Yeah."

"Sure, meet you there in an hour."

She glanced down at her watch. "All right. See you then."

"Bye, Lana."

"Bye." Lana sat in silence for a long time before she got off the bed. Something in the back of her mind was bugging her, and she couldn't quite figure out what. Then last night's conversation with Chloe came back to her.

"_You're not selfish, Lana." … "Yeah, I am."_

She went to gather her schoolwork up off the floor, and set it neatly on her desk. One hour to finish that essay. She better get started.

- - - - -

"N-no…can't do it. I can't…he's not. He's not…he's not-"

"Clark…Clark!" Clark sat up suddenly, hands flying out defensively in front of him. "Woah, easy easy!" Chloe stepped back suddenly, also defensive, as though he were wielding a weapon.

"Chloe." He looked around, blinking hard. He was lying on the unbelievably ugly brown couch that sat at the back wall of the refreshments room in The Daily Planet. Scattered all around him were computer printouts and newspaper clippings. He suddenly remembered his and Chloe's research. "Why'd you let me doze off?"

Chloe shook her head. "Sorry, I just thought you could use the rest. You were up till three in the morning getting abducted and dumped back on the highway." He sighed, rubbing his face halfheartedly. Clark was never this tired. She pushed her worries away for the time being. "Hey, okay. Let's not talk about it. Look, I found the article I did on Curtis for The Torch."

Clark sat up, suddenly alert, and took the piece of paper from her, reading aloud: "Smallville Student Makes Breakthrough At Science Fair?"

"I knew I'd written something juicy on him. He wasn't Wall of Weird, but he did mix a chemical that causes happiness on demand." Clark raised his eyebrows, instantly skeptical. Chloe went on, "Well, he basically created a reaction that made emotions heighten. So if a person were to do something that made them feel good, like- eating chocolate, hugging someone, it would cause them sudden elation. It's like the ultimate high, right? To be able to have those emotions just come to you?"

"So- why isn't he a billionaire now?"

"Well, this Daddy Warbucks never received his gold. Some scientists from Metropolis took a look and said it was too unstable to use in any official capacity. They even told him to discontinue experiments with it, saying it could become a biohazard." She slapped the newspaper onto the table. "And that's sort of where his trail ends. I mean, he didn't even graduate, technically."

"Technically?"

"Well, he should have finished his Senior Year, but he dropped out just before graduation. See, I got a copy of the line-up."

Clark took the paper, and read: "Hannah Jacobs, Michelle Jewel, Clark Kent…no Curtis Jaye."

"Now, why would someone quit just short of getting their diploma?"

"I don't know, but look at this." He leaned forward with the line-up sheet so Chloe could see. "At the bottom is a log of the edits which were made. One was made the day before graduation."

"So someone edited this list right before?"

"Yeah…can you look this stuff up on the computer?"

"No, but it gives me an idea of what day to look for. Let's see where Curtis was the day before graduation. Hey, shouldn't you be going to meet Lana?"

"Oh man!" Clark jumped off the couch, snatched his coat from the table, and then asked what time it was.

"It's okay, Clark, you still have a few minutes. Besides, I'm pretty sure you can make it in whatever time you want." She smiled, but it quickly faded. "Just…try and be careful, okay?"

"Chloe, it's just Lana."

"I know, Clark, but what are you going to say when your girlfriend tries to hug you and…"

"I start moaning on the floor?" Chloe shrugged apologetically. "Listen, I'll just keep it brief. There's no reason Lana has to know about any of this."

"She doesn't like being in the dark, Clark."

"And I don't like putting her there, but sometimes that's the way it has to be. Call me if you find anything?"

"Sure."

- - - - -

"Jonathan, where's the picture of us with Clark at his fifth birthday?"

Jonathan looked up as Martha came into the barn, looking flustered. "I don't know, isn't it on the bedside table?"

"No, and I can't find it anywhere."

"Don't worry, I'm sure it'll turn up."

"I love that picture," Martha said quietly, sitting down on the steps. "I've looked all over the place…I even checked the bookshelves three times. It's just disappeared, how does that happen?"

Jonathan watched her a moment, then pulled his work gloves off, and offered his hand to her. She looked up, confused. "C'mon, I'll help you find it."

She sighed, taking his hand and he helped her up. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to cut into your work time, I just…Clark's just-"

"He's going to be okay. This Curtis boy is never getting near our son again, Martha, I promise you that."

"I like looking at that picture when I'm worried about Clark," she admitted, blushing. "I guess because all three of us look so…content." She sighed. "Things were a lot safer when he was little, weren't they."

"What were we going to do? Lock him in the basement? We could never deprive this world of a person as amazing as Clark." Martha just nodded. "But yes. I guess they were safer."

They rechecked all the places Martha had all ready looked, being as thorough as they could. Finally, Martha split off to check their bedroom a second time. "I'll look in Clark's room real quick," Jonathan called after her, and went down the hall.

He checked the dresser, the bedside table, the shelves, briefly looked in the closet…nothing. On a whim, he opened the top drawer of the dresser. He pulled back the socks and stared.

"Martha?" She looked up and saw Jonathan standing in the doorway of their room. He held up the empty cherry wood frame. She rushed over to him.

"Where'd you find that?"

"Clark's dresser."

"Well…where's the photo?" Jonathan reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a brightly colored shot of him and Martha standing over a five-year-old Clark's shoulder as he made a birthday wish on red and blue candles. Martha took it gently from him. "Where was it?"

Jonathan's thoughts were elsewhere as he responded. "I found it under Clark's pillow."

- - - - -


	5. Five

- - - - -

"Clark, over here!" Clark waved at Lana across the crowded coffee house, and made his way past circular tables to where she stood.

"Hey, sorry I'm late."

"Nonsense, you're three minutes early," she beamed. He could tell she was about to hug him, so he scooted quickly into a chair and grabbed a menu. Taken aback, Lana followed suit. "Everything okay?"

He nodded curtly. "Uh, yeah. Just- a little tired."

"Yeah, being up all night with a kidnapper can do that." Her face became suddenly very somber. "Clark…what happened? You said you'd fill me in, so…"

He put the menu down. "Do you remember Curtis Jaye?"

"Yeah," she said, blinking in surprise. "I mean- well, he was Whitney's cousin."

Clark's eyes widened. "Really?" Chloe's research hadn't picked up that factoid.

"Mhm, he used to come over with Whitney sometimes, when we studied together. He was a real science whiz, but he stunk at English." She shrugged. "We sort of helped each other out. But after his dad left, he got caught up in all his experiments and whatnot. We didn't see him much after that- well, I assume Whitney did, but I didn't. His dad's abandonment really hit him hard."

"I'm not surprised," Clark said vaguely, and Lana nodded her agreement. "Was that when he went sort of…"

"AWOL?" He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Whitney said he became really reclusive, and the only time anyone saw him was when he'd show up for classes. He was really serious about getting his degree in chemistry."

Clark blinked. "So- he wanted to graduate?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because it looks like he was removed from the line-up the day before graduation. Why would he bail out just before the big day?"

"I don't know…" they were quiet a moment, then Lana looked up at him again. "But, Clark- why are we discussing Curtis?"

Clark sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Because…he's the guy who kidnapped me." After that statement, Lana wanted to know everything. Clark filled her in on all points but the Kryptonite, and by the time he was finished, she seemed satisfied that he'd told her everything.

"Clark, we need to call the police. If Curtis is just- up and abducting people for no reason, he's not only dangerous, he could be insane."

"Well, problem number one is I have no idea where to find him. Chloe and I looked for an address, but he doesn't have a current address. My guess is he's found somewhere out of the way to work on his science experiments. He's definitely in Smallville, though, because it didn't take us long to get to Chandler's Field."

"There's got to be a way to track him down."

"Chloe's going to check with the DMV. I didn't get the license plate of his car, but I know it was a blue Honda Pilot."

"Pretty sporty for a high school dropout."

"Probably got the money from his mom. Mrs. Jaye died a little over a year ago."

Lana looked sadly down at the tabletop. "No wonder he's losing it…I mean, he was practically catatonic after his father left him, and now…I wish I had kept up with him now. He didn't even make it to Whitney's funeral."

Clark wanted badly to squeeze her hand. His mind was working furiously, trying to think of something comforting he could do without touching her. "Hey…" he smiled when she looked at him. "Remember what you're always telling me? It's nowhere near your fault, Lana. Seriously."

"Thanks, Clark." She smiled back at him and then thankfully segued. "So. Coffee?" They both ordered, and chatted about ridiculously everyday things over steaming mugs. By the time they were ready to go, Clark felt a million times better just for talking about nothing for a half-hour. Then his cell buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.

"Hey, Chloe."

"Clark, I think I might have something. Can you come back to the office?"

"Yeah, Lana and I were just finishing up. See you in a bit." He shut the phone, and shrugged at Lana. "Is it just me, or our visits getting shorter?"

She returned the smile. "Let me know when you find Curtis, okay? And if I can help."

"Thanks, Lana." He turned to walk away, but she stopped him, climbing out of her chair.

"Hey-" He turned around and found her standing right behind him. Before he could stop her, she planted both hands on his shoulders, and pushed herself up, kissing him quickly on the cheek. Clark crumbled under touch, sinking to his knees on the tiled floor, gasping.

Lana screamed. "Clark!" She fell down next to him, grabbing his shoulders. "Clark, what's wrong?"

All his instincts told him to shove her away, but he couldn't do it. Breathing hard, he managed to say, "I'm okay…I just don't feel good…I'm- feeling sort of sick."

"Well, here, I'll help you to your car- you did drive, didn't you?"

Clark faltered. No, he ran, but he couldn't tell Lana that. "Uh…Chloe drove-" he really wished she'd let go of him, but she held fast to his shoulders.

"Well, then I'll drive you home-"

"No, no it's okay…I'm okay, I can…"

"I'll help you up."

"I can do it, Lana, it's okay." Still in agony, he forced himself up by a table. Once he was on his feet, Lana finally let go. The pain subsided and he could stand straight again. Everyone in the Cocoa Mocha was staring at the pair of them, but they finally went back to their coffee. Clark sighed, brushing himself off. "I guess…I should get home and get some sleep."

"Yeah, you do that," Lana said, concerned. "You sure you don't need a ride?"

"No, Chloe and I will figure something out. Besides, you have school." He smiled. "I'm okay, really. I'll call you later, all right?" She only nodded and watched him until he disappeared down the sidewalk.

- - - - -

"So he was removed the day before graduation."

"Yeah, look-" Chloe tapped her mouse and opened an internet window, pointing to a page of student records.

"How did you get these?"

Chloe blushed, and mumbled something about knowing a guy who knew a guy who thought she was cute. She scrolled down until she hit a page marked "Jaye, Curtis". Clark squinted at it. "Suspicion of theft?"

"They had reason to believe that Curtis stole a great deal of very expensive equipment and chemicals from the science lab. He wouldn't admit to it, and the evidence wasn't conclusive enough to convict him, but everyone was pretty sure it was him. They kept it quiet from the students, though, which is why we never knew."

"So they cut him from graduation. Can they do that?"

Chloe shrugged. "Apparently so. Why would he break in the day before graduation? He must have known if he was caught, he'd never get that diploma."

"Maybe because once he was no longer a student, he'd lose all his accessibility to the lab. Lana was telling me he was a science whiz, he was used to staying after hours to experiment down there."

"Lana knows him?"

"Yeah, get this- he's Whitney's cousin."

She looked as surprised as he had. "Good grief, he sure gets around. So how is Lana?" Clark sat heavily down in the chair behind her, spinning this way and that and not responding. "That good, huh?"

"She…she kissed me." Chloe winced on his behalf. "And, of course, I just fell apart. I think I scared her too." He rubbed his face. "I have to find this guy, Chloe, I can't…I can't not touch my girlfriend, I can't avoid contact with my parents and my best friends. It's got to stop."

"It's going to," she said gently, spinning back to her computer and hammering the keys for a few moments. "No good with the DMV. The number they have listed has been disconnected, and the address they had is a year old."

Clark sat up. "It says here that he was sent to live with his aunt for a short time and then moved out after his eighteenth birthday, taking the money his mother had left him in her will…yeah, but no address after that."

"His aunt?" Clark highlighted the correct paragraph so she could see. She sat back. "Mrs. Fordman."

"Whitney's mom," Clark nodded. "Maybe we should talk to her then. I should get back to Smallville anyway. Thanks for all your help, Chloe."

She nodded. "I'll let you know if I find anything new. Hey-" she grabbed his arm before she could stop herself, but let go instantly when he winced. "Sorry," she murmured, feeling suddenly how ugly this whole situation was. "You going to be okay?"

He straightened his jacket, staring down at his shoes, looking anything but okay, and nodded. "I'll be fine. I have to go."

"Clark-" But he vanished. Running down the highway, away from Metropolis at the speed of light, Clark was almost to the halfway point before he realized Chloe was speaking when he took off. He felt bad, but on the other hand, what could she say to him? She was so helpful, the best friend he had. The fact was, though, the only one who could stop all this was Curtis.

"You can't do this to me, I won't let you do it…" Clark whispered under his breath as he ran. Curtis had no idea what he was messing with. And this disaster couldn't have come at a worse time.

- - - - -

"Hello, may I help you?"

"Hello, Mrs. Fordman, I'm Clark Kent."

"Oh, Clark, come in, will you?" Clark wiped his shoes on the welcome mat, and stepped inside. Mrs. Fordman led him into the living room, and offered him a seat, but he declined.

"I just have a few brief questions, if that's all right."

She just smiled and sat down. "So…you were a friend of Whitney's, weren't you?"

Clark thought a moment, then nodded slowly, meaning it. "Yeah. Yeah I was. How are you doing, Mrs. Fordman?"

She shrugged. "Oh, I've been better. How's Lana?"

"She's fine, thanks." He turned to look at the pictures strung across the mantel. One of Mr. and Mrs. Fordman's seventh anniversary, one of Whitney and Lana having a very competitive-looking game of foosball, several shots of unfamiliar friends and family members. "This is a good shot of Whitney," he said, pointing to a large print of Whitney's army headshot.

"Doesn't he look handsome?"

Clark nodded distractedly, lifting up the picture behind it. "Is this Curtis?"

Mrs. Fordman rose out of her chair and came to look. "That's my nephew, all right. Do you know Curtis?" She seemed surprised.

"We've…met." His eyes scanned the shot of a younger-looking Curtis posed outside of an old pickup with a younger Whitney. They were both grinning brightly, and Curtis had given Whitney bunny ears.

"He was such a sweet child, before his father left," Mrs. Fordman mused sadly, taking the picture and setting it back on the mantel. "Actually, there's a picture of the three of them that you'd probably like. Here, I'll get it." She disappeared down the hallway, and a several long minutes later, returned with a shoebox. "Sorry it took so long. I really should go through all this stuff, it's so hard to find things in my closet."

"Doesn't this house have a basement?"

She nodded, flipping through the box. "Yes, but…well, that was Whitney's rec-room." She blinked as she rifled harder through the photos. "I just…I put all his stuff down there, and I don't really…"she suddenly pulled out a picture and handed it Clark, efficiently ending the unpleasant conversation. Clark looked at it.

Curtis, Whitney and Lana were all sitting in the living room, sprawled around the coffee table (where their homework lay forgotten). Whitney was lying flat on his back like someone had knocked him out, though he was still grinning. Lana was curled up on the rug next to him, laughing hard as Curtis knelt over her, tickling her and laughing as well.

"Isn't it a sweet picture?" Clark couldn't help smiling. Lana's smile had that effect on him. Mrs. Fordman seemed pleased that he liked it. "Curtis sure liked her. I could tell."

"Who, Lana?"

"The boy has good taste, doesn't he?" She returned the picture to the shoebox. Clark sat down on the coffee table.

"What makes you think he liked her?"

"Well, Whitney sure seemed to think so. He'd tackle Curtis to the ground if he caught him flirting with Lana, though, so it never went anywhere."

Clark waved at Mrs. Fordman as he walked down the porch steps, thanking her for her time. As he went off down the sidewalk, he thought over their conversation. On the one hand, Whitney always thought people were eyeing Lana. He'd strung Clark up in a field based on seeing the two of them together. On the other hand…Curtis' words ran through his memory.

_The only reason she likes you is because she thinks you're something you're not._

Lana.

- - - - -


	6. Six

- - - - -

"Clark, calm down!"

"He's going after her, Chloe, I know it."

"You know, a juvenile crush isn't exactly defcon three."

"He's not stable. I'm telling you, Chloe, you can't let Lana out of your sight."

"Okay, okay," Chloe said quickly. "We'll order in tonight, stay up late chit-chatting. Will that make you feel better?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Chloe."

"You're welcome." She sat in silence for a long moment. "We really need to find this guy."

"Tell me about it."

"Where are you right now?"

"I'm heading home. Got anything yet?"

"Not yet. Did Mrs. Fordman tell you anything else?"

"Just that she hadn't heard from Curtis since the day before graduation. It was a week after he moved out."

He heard Chloe's computer clicking on the other end. "Okay, well so for now it's a dead end. It would really help if you could remember some more about what you saw."

"Yeah…well, I'll let you know if anything comes to me."

"Be safe, Clark."

"You too." He hung up, and stood, staring at his house. He had to go in. He had to avoid touching his parents at all costs. Maybe he could just say he was tired, and go to bed. They bought that, sometimes. After a long moment of indecision, he finally trudged up the driveway.

- - - - -

"Where have you been?" Martha came running out of the living room at the sound of the door shutting.

"Sorry," Clark mumbled, hanging his jacket up, and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'm sort of tired…I was thinking I'd go lay down for a bit."

"Okay, sweetie. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." He was so tired of telling people he was okay. He wasn't. He was everything but okay. He went quietly upstairs, and swung the door to his room open to find Jonathan sitting on his bed.

"Dad, what's up?" He walked in hesitantly, setting his cell phone on the dresser top. Then he saw the picture that Jonathan was holding. He felt his face flush. "Oh you found that, huh?"

"Your mom was looking for it," Jonathan explained quietly, patting the bed next to him for his son to sit down. Clark went for the desk chair instead. "What's up, Clark?"

"What, I'm not allowed to look at our family pictures?" He immediately regretted his choice of words, and rubbed his forehead apologetically. "I just…I like that picture." He shrugged.

Jonathan let out a long sigh, and Clark braced himself for the "open up or you'll be alone" speech that he seemed to get from everyone. He was surprised by what Jonathan said instead. "When you were…just a year older than you are in this photo, you saw your first scary movie. Well, I mean, it was a cartoon, but it really scared the heck out of you. You know what scared you most?" Clark did know. He remembered this story vividly, but he chose not to say anything. "You hated that in this cartoon, the little boy gets lost in a magic world where he can't get home. You kept telling your mother and me, 'Where's his parents? Why don't they come get him?' That night, you couldn't sleep. You said you were scared that you could end up in a magic world and you'd never see us again."

Clark smiled in spite of himself. Jonathan returned the smile fondly, and continued, "So, your mother came up with an idea. She got our wedding photo, and told you to put it under your pillow. She said so long as you had it with you, we could never disappear while you were sleeping." He shrugged. "I guess it worked, because for years, that's how you got rid of your anxiety. I think- the last time I remember you doing it was the night before your first day at Smallville High."

Again, Clark smiled, speaking more to himself than Jonathan. "I was afraid everyone would know more than me…I didn't feel very smart, so Mom said to put one of my schoolbooks under my pillow, so I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore." He laughed. "I stuck them all under my pillow. Didn't sleep very well, but my first day went fine." He shook his head. "Man, that feels like centuries ago."

Jonathan watched him quietly, and smiled, looking down at his shoes. Then he handed the birthday photo to Clark. "If you need to talk to me, son, you can." And without another word, he stood up and left the room.

Clark held the photo gingerly, a mixture of emotions flooding his head. Then he went to his bed, slid the picture under his red pillow, and flopped down. When Martha came upstairs with his dinner, he was asleep.

- - - - -

"Bring him back! I'll…I'll kill you, give him or I'll…Give him…hey…Hey!" Clark's eyes leapt open. He was twisted up in his bedding, and fought to kick it off him. He felt sweaty and cold. Shakily, he sat up, and realized what it was that had awoken him. His cell phone was vibrating.

Dragging himself out of bed, he snatched for the glowing light on his dresser. Flipping it open without checking who it was, he said, "This is Clark."

"Hey, Clark. How was your day?"

Clark's neck prickled and his jaw tightened. "Curtis."

"Not good, huh? Yeah. It's the pits getting sick around everyone you care about. Especially your girlfriend."

"You come near her and I'll-"

"Oh geez, Clark, don't be so cliché. Besides, I told you I'd have an eye on you. You have no idea where to find me, do you?" Clark didn't answer. "I know, I said you could find me if you wanted. I bet that's still the case, if you actually wanted to find me. But you don't. Deep down, you know it's better this way. Cause…Clark, if you can't go near your friends, then they can't betray you."

Clark shook his head, astounded. "You really are crazy. Is that what you think? That your family and friends-"

"They're poisonous, Kent!" Curtis spat into the receiver. "They'll kill you, you just wait and see. They'll let you down, betray your trust, turn you in…they'll hate you, sooner or later. I'm just speeding up the process. The sooner you get away from them the better, trust me."

"All your delusions aside, Curtis, what makes you want to help me?"

"I don't," he sneered. "I just like seeing you struggle with my life." Clark's mouth opened to respond, but with a faint click call ended. He went to shut the phone, and saw he had a new text message from Lana. He clicked it.

"CLARK - Miss you still . See you at Talon tomorrow ? Noon ? - LANA"

He shut the phone, and fell back onto his bed. It was only then that his dream came to him again. Blinking hard in the darkness, trying to swallow the mixed emotions in his head, he rolled over and stuffed the cell phone under his pillow.

- - - - -

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Clark groaned sullenly, his dad's pickup trundling down the road at a steady pace. "I mean- I have to meet her, I can't let her down again."

"You know Clark," Chloe sighed into the other end of the phone, "you could just say you're not feeling well. It wouldn't even be lying, and then you wouldn't have to risk getting the both of you hurt."

"I just…things have been so messy with Lana and me, I want to try and straighten everything out."

"Yeah, and I understand that, but can't you wait till you're capable of physical contact again?"

Clark couldn't think of a way to respond, so he just said, "So I guess things went okay last night?"

"If you mean did Curtis Peter Pan his way into our apartment and abduct Lana, then I think I would have mentioned something by now."

He rolled his eyes. "This is serious, Chloe."

"Clark, you're tired. You're not feeling well- have you forgotten you've got Kryptonite in your system? For all we know, this could be killing you. We need to concentrate on finding Curtis. I'm sure Lana will be fine."

Clark shook his head. "I've got to set things straight with her."

Chloe just sighed again. "You need more rest than I thought. I'll talk to you later."

Clark pulled the truck into a parking spot outside the Talon's front door. He climbed out and went inside, taking only moments to spot Lana not far from the front counter. She waved, and he smiled, approaching her. "I got your message."

"It's nice to see you." Lana walked up to him, and everything else happened so fast, it was nothing but a blur in his mind later. She put her arms around his neck, and kissed him gently. Clark's head swam, his knees buckled and before either one of them understood what was happening, both had tumbled to the floor. Lana was sprawled on top of him, looking bewildered as he moaned in pain, and tried to gently pull her off.

"Clark, what's wrong!"

"Lana, you have to get off me…" Clark bit out, crawling out from under her. She stood up, looking shaken. He knelt for several moments, gasping for air.

"Clark…Clark, what's the matter? What's happening?"

"Nothing," he lied, but it sounded lame even to him. "I…shouldn't have come, but I wanted to see you."

Lana still looked confused. "Are you sick?"

"Not exactly-"

"Then what is it?"

"I'm just…" He pulled himself up by the counter, leaning against it for support. Why hadn't he listened to Chloe? Why?! She was exactly right, and now both of them had ended up getting hurt. Lana's face was easing into its most judgmental and suspicious stare. "Lana, I need you to trust-"

"Trust?" She shook her head. He'd picked the wrong word. "No, need me to believe your lies. Again. I try to kiss my boyfriend, he collapses for no reason. Sorry if that seems really distressing to me. And now, you want me to listen to whatever story you try to feed me. Well, I'm sorry Clark." She fixed him with a serious, piercing look, dark eyes on fire. "I've had it with your lies."

By the time Clark had recovered enough to stand straight, Lana was all ready going out the front door. He didn't see the point in following her.

- - - - -

Clark climbed out of the truck, and went to return the keys to his dad's coat pocket. He'd rather run to Metropolis, it was much easier. The incident with Lana had thrown him over the edge, and now he and Chloe needed to find Curtis. She'd been right all along; it was the number on priority.

He headed back to the kitchen, but only made it to the door when he heard Jonathan coming down the stairs.

"Clark, is that you?"

"Yeah, I was going to head out to Metropolis."

"Well hang on a minute. I need to talk to you."

"Dad," Clark sighed, letting go of the door handle. "I need to get a move on with this, I can't have Curtis out there anymore, it's driving me crazy!"

"Believe me, son, it worries me more than you know to have this kid on the loose." Jonathan came into the kitchen, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "But…I need to talk to you about yesterday."

Clark resisted the temptation to roll his eyes in exasperation. "The argument?"

"Yes, the argument." Jonathan didn't elaborate, forcing Clark to open the conversation.

"Look, Dad, I'm really sorry for the things I said. I didn't mean them-"

"Really?" Jonathan looked doubtful. "Clark, as much as I don't like having you yelling at me, I'm not going to ask you to take back something you needed to say. Is it true that you think I'm never around? I mean…do you really think I shouldn't be running for Senator?"

"No, it's not that, it's just…" He wanted to tell him so badly, but he couldn't. And that frustration boiled over inside him, along with all Curtis' jibes and threats, and his anger leapt into action. "You know what? Just- never mind. I'll see you."

"Clark!" Jonathan rose out of his chair. "Stop it, stop doing this. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh yeah?" He came to stand right in front of Clark, eyes penetrating. "You think your mother and I can't hear you yelling in your sleep? And that we'd never notice the birthday picture? Or the fact that you avoid coming home lately? You can't keep telling us you're okay, you're not okay."

"I'm fine!"

"No you're not!"

"Just leave me alone."

"Clark-" Jonathan grabbed Clark's forearm and didn't even have time to notice his son flinch in anticipation. Clark crumbled, crying out in agony, trying to pry his father's hand off his arm. "Clark! Clark, what is it?" Jonathan knelt beside him, holding his shoulders tightly.

"Dad-" Clark gasped, slumping forward in Jonathan's grip.

"Martha!" Jonathan shouted over his shoulder. "Martha!"

"Dad- let go…" Clark managed to whisper, trembling.

"What?"

"Let go…" He pulled at his father's hands again, and finally, Jonathan let go. Clark fell sideways, his head striking the tile floor hard.

"Clark-"

"I'm okay," he promised, panting.

"What happened?" Jonathan held his hands out in front of him as though surrendering.

"I…" Clark blinked hard, sitting up and rubbing his head. "I can't tell you. But look…it's going to go away, okay? We're gonna…Chloe and I, we'll-" A lump was forming in his throat that he couldn't seem to shake. He pushed himself to his feet. "I'll call you."

Martha came into the kitchen and found Jonathan kneeling in front of the open kitchen door, hands shaking. Her gaze went to the tiny pool of blood on the tile floor and she gasped. "Jonathan?"

"Martha…" His shoulders sank and he didn't turn around. "I can't help him…I don't know what to do."

- - - - -


	7. Seven

- - - - -

Clark could barely see straight, he was running so fast. His mind whirled, asking for questions, looking for answers. He tried to remember everything about the night he was kidnapped, desperation driving certain details to sharp relief.

He'd definitely been in a basement; he could still remember the smell and the faded yellow fiberglass sticking out of the rafters. He thought of the plywood, the twist ties…the table, the light shining down on his face…wait. The table?

A distant piece of his memory came to him. Trying to break free of the twist ties and hearing the table rattle underneath him. And then there was the metal bar that blocked his attempts to untie himself. What sort of a table has metal bars protruding from it? Then the rest just sort of snapped together like final piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

He came to a sudden stop in the middle of Route 8, snatching up his cell phone, turning it on, ignoring the five voicemail messages, and dialing Chloe's phone. It rang several times, then- "Hello?"

"Chloe, it was a foosball table! I know where Curtis is-"

"What?"

He stopped, confused. "Lana?"

"Clark, did you get my messages?"

"Huh? No, I was- is Chloe there?"

"Clark-" she seemed panicked; a little exasperated. "Chloe and I decided to get lunch at The Talon. She went to the restroom, and she was gone for like a half hour, so I went in there to check on her. Her purse was sitting on the counter, but I can't find her anywhere! Clark I'm really scared, that was like- an hour ago. I've been trying to call you, I left like six voicemail messages, but-"

It all came flooding to him, his heart started pounding painfully in his chest. "Lana, I'm sorry. I'm going to go look for her. I think I have an idea of where she is."

To his surprise, she didn't demand where he was going. She just said, "Okay. Call me as soon as you know something, Clark." And hung up.

Clark stood, thinking. Then, taking a deep breath, he sped away, back towards Smallville. Curtis was in Whitney's rec-room basement.

- - - - -

When Clark reached the Fordman's, he got his first piece of good news; Mrs. Fordman was out for the afternoon. Quietly, he forced the door open and stepped inside. The house was unnervingly still. He stepped as carefully as he could across the velvety carpet, into the kitchen, and towards the basement door.

As he walked silently down the steps, he tried to think what his plan of action was. Curtis probably kept Kryptonite on his person, if he was smart. But if Clark could take him by surprise, he was pretty sure he could throw Curtis against a wall before he had a chance to spring something on him.

Oh the other hand, what if he was holding Chloe hostage? He hesitated then, and squinted across the dark basement, x-raying the dark walls. Way off, in the farthest corner of the room, he saw the skeleton of Curtis standing by a table, mixing chemicals. He focused on where Curtis's pockets should be, then on both of his hands. No Kryptonite.

Quietly, Clark started crossing the basement. Still no sign of Chloe. He'd have to jump Curtis first, then go after Chloe. He rounded the corner and, sure enough, Curtis was standing with his back to him, mixing something into a vial of bluish liquid.

Clark was about to put on his super speed, but Curtis suddenly spoke. "I wouldn't knock me out if I was you, Kent. Chloe's life sort of depends on time right now."

Clark's jaw tightened. "Where is she?"

Curtis turned around, smirking. "Now, Clark. Would I really tell you that?"

"If you don't, I'll have no reason not to throw you into your mad science lab." He nodded at the vials and test-tubes spread across the improved foosball table.

Curtis shrugged. "Okay. Have it your way." His instincts were good, but Clark's were better. Curtis cried out as Clark dashed across the room, appearing instantly beside him, and knocking the meteor rock Curtis had gone for out of his hand. It skidded across the floor, the slight glow fading instantly. He lifted Curtis off the floor a few feet by his shirt front, his voice dangerous.

"Where is Chloe."

"Good one, Clark. Just not good enough." Curtis reached into his pocket, and before Clark could look down to see what it was, he pulled out a squirt gun and fired it several times into Clark's chest. Clark dropped him, and stumbled back, smacking the wall. Advancing slowly on him, Curtis fired the gun over and over into Clark's chest, until his shirt was drenched. Clark slid to the floor, gasping. Curtis pocketed the squirt gun and shrugged.

"I call it the Super-Kent-Soaker," he grinned at his lame joke. "That meteor rock's just a real bummer for you, isn't it." As the Kryptonite water soaked into Clark's skin, his head swam and he could feel himself passing out. The last thing he heard before he blacked out was Curtis laughing. "Did you really think I'd hurt Chloe Sullivan?"

- - - - -

"Clark, c'mon. Clark? C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…" Clark jerked awake, wishing instantly that he was still unconscious. He blinked hard, wondering if he'd actually opened his eyes. It was so dark, he could see literally nothing.

The cold hand that had been tentatively slapping his cheek jerked away the moment he stirred. "Clark?"

He tried to sit up, but both his wrists and ankles were taped, and he couldn't seem to get his balance. "Chloe?"

"Clark!" Chloe's voice came, relieved, from his left. "Oh…Clark, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he lied, and managed to use the wall behind him to get into a sitting position. He groaned as he did so, giving away his real condition. "Well," he amended, "I've been better."

"What happened?"

"Curtis shot me," he replied ruefully, and then elaborated when Chloe gasped.

"Kryptonite water? Well, that's…really inconvenient."

Clark laughed dryly. "Yeah, tell me about it. Hey-" He inched a few feet in what he thought was her direction. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you at all?"

"No," she was quick to say. "I remember being in the restroom at The Talon, and someone came up behind me and hit me over the back of the head. I woke up here, and then- like a half hour ago," he saw her watch glow briefly ahead of him as she checked the time. "Yeah, more like twenty minutes ago, Curtis opened the door, threw you inside, and I've been trying to wake you up ever since."

"He hit you over the head?" Clark asked, bewildered. "It's just- he said that he'd never hurt you."

"What? When?"

"Right before I passed out, he said he'd never hurt Chloe Sullivan."

"Well tell that to my ankle. I think I must have smacked it somehow when he dragged me out of the window in the restroom."

Clark x-rayed through the darkness, and realized Chloe was a lot closer to him than he thought. He looked down at her ankle, checking all the major bones. He refocused, and everything went dark again. "It's not broken," he told her and heard her smile.

"Well, at least I've got my trusty superhero with me. Even if he did get hosed down with his one weakness. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

Clark shrugged, then realized she couldn't see it. "I guess…my shirt's still damp, but I think the Kryptonite got pretty diluted."

"Good." There was a long moment of silence. "Clark…what are we going to do? We have to get a cure out of Curtis somehow."

Clark didn't respond. What could he say? He had no idea what to do, that was the truth. "Maybe…maybe there isn't a cure."

"No, you can't think that, Clark. There's always a way out of Kryptonite and its effects."

"Kryptonite mutates people permanently all the time-"

"But not you, Clark." She said sternly, and he was quiet for a long time. Then he couldn't hold back his thoughts any longer. Something about the fact that he couldn't actually see Chloe gave him courage to say everything he was thinking.

"It's just that I've made such a mess of things, Chloe," he began at last. "I've alienated Lana again, I've lost it with my parents twice, now…especially my dad. I went out of my way trying to protect Lana, and it turns out Curtis was after you all along."

"Clark-"

The door suddenly opened, blinding both of them temporarily. "I'm going to make this very simple for you, Clark." Clark squinted painfully in the light, trying to see Curtis' face as he cross the room and knelt in front of him and Chloe. "I invited you back because I wanted to finish explaining myself. Now that you've adjusted to your new life, I figure you'll be more receptive to what I have to say."

"I haven't adjusted," Clark spat. "I'm not giving up."

"Don't think I couldn't hear you two in here, Clark. You've all ready given up. And anyway, I have bad news for you." He came close to Clark's face, licking his front teeth, anticipating a final step in whatever twisted plan he had in mind. "See, Clark…there isn't a cure. You think I was born yesterday? That meteor- Kryptonite, did you call it?" He glanced at Chloe who blanched. "Well, whatever. It's not getting out of your system. So you better think long and hard about listening to what I have to say."

He got up and started for the door. "I don't believe you," Clark said loudly. "And I'm not buying into your games."

"Believe what you want, but…I didn't make a cure, Clark. Why would I? I don't get a cure, you don't get a cure. It's only fair."

"Curtis, what do you want?"

"Just think about it, we've got time."

"Curtis-"

"Let me know when you're ready to talk." He shut the door.

"Curtis?! Curtis!" He shouted angrily, smacking the wall hard with his head. It cracked behind him. The Kryptonite still clinging to his skin burned and the back of his head throbbed.

"Clark…" Chloe inched across the floor to him. "Are you okay?"

"He's lying, he has to be."

"I know."

"No, no you don't know! You don't know, Chloe!"

She wanted so badly to touch him, but perhaps he would have pushed her away anyway. She felt him shudder beside her and he sighed in that 'sorry I yelled at you' way.

"The…the argument I had with my dad?" Chloe didn't respond. "I told him he was never around. I said- things I didn't mean, things I…wish I could take back. But it wasn't him, it was me. I was scared, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

He shifted around in the dark, trying to ease the pressure off his wrists. "Chloe, you remember the day Jor-El returned my abilities?" He said quietly, barely over a whisper. If Curtis was listening, he didn't want him hearing keywords like 'Jor-El'.

"Of course I do. You were up in your loft, really upset about something. You said- that you thought you'd made a horrible mistake, that Jor-El said someone was…going to-"

"Die. Because of me." Again, Chloe couldn't think what to respond, so Clark continued. "Chloe…about a week ago, after Mom recovered from that Kryptonian virus, I had this- this really, really vivid dream. It was about Dad." Clark started to breathe hard as he spoke. "I thought- I thought that it was because of all the turmoil with Mom, that I was just overacting. But then I had it again…and again. Chloe, I had a vivid dream before the second meteor shower. And it happened, remember? And-"

"Woah, hey- Clark, listen to me. Nothing is going to happen to your dad."

"Chloe, Chloe, you can't say that! You don't know!" Chloe flinched, hearing tears spring into Clark's voice. As he spoke, his words slurred together like he was having trouble controlling them. "I can feel when something's coming, I can't control it but I know. And now- because of Curtis, and I don't even know why he picked me, but he's…I'm never going to…If my dad dies, I'll never forgive myself."

All his thoughts were so disjointed, randomly spilling out of a frustrated heart. Chloe thought of a million things she could say, but each sounded weaker than the last. All she could say was, "Clark…"

Almost instantly, his voice steadied just a little, and he spoke more quietly. "When…when I was a kid, I saw this freaky cartoon at a sleepover at Pete's house. And what I hated the most was this kid got lost in a magical world and couldn't find his parents. I went home the next morning, after not sleeping at all that night, and told my parents that I was…I was scared I may never see them again if I went to sleep. That I might wake up in a different world, you know?"

"What'd they say?" She whispered.

"I…" Clark laughed, and it came out like something between a breathy cough and a sob. "I remember exactly what it looked like. My mom gave me hers and Dad's wedding picture to keep under my pillow, and then Dad said something I never forgot. He said- 'I'm going to give you the biggest, hardest, strongest hug you've ever had before I leave you. So, so long as I haven't given you that hug yet, Clark…I'm not going anywhere'."

Something clicked in Chloe's head. Her lip trembled, but she fought the tears. "Oh Clark…we're going to-"

"I'm never going to get that hug, Chloe. I mean, it's okay…I was like six years old." Clark whispered. He sounded defeated. "It just, I'm afraid I'm going to lose my dad and never…you know, never get that chance to, uh…"

"No." Chloe sat up, scooting right next to him on her knees. "No, Clark. You're going to get that hug, but you are not getting it today or tomorrow or a week from now, because Clark, you are not losing your dad. You hear me?"

"Chloe-"

"You're not. Now hold your breath."

"What?" He blinked hard, trying to get the sting in his eyes recede.

Chloe grabbed the collar of his jacket, gently pushing forward to bend over his knees. "Just hold your breath, Clark, this is going to hurt."

"Chloe- agh!" Clark's body went rigid as Chloe's bound hands closed around his wrists. She struggled with the tape for several minutes, trying to get Clark to breathe normally.

"It's okay, almost got it, it's okay it's okay…" Clark gasped, trying to think about anything but the searing pain cascading down his arms and back. Suddenly, Chloe let go, and still choking for air, Clark slumped onto the floor, hands free.

"You're okay. You're okay," Chloe whispered, panting almost as hard as he was. "Clark?"

"Yeah," he managed tightly, rubbing his wrists. "I'm all right." She sighed in relief as he slowly sat up and went for the tape around his ankles. Then he scrambled over to her. "Can you stand up? We've got to get out of here."

"Clark, I…" He heard her voice trembling. "I know you said my ankle's not broken, but I must have torn a muscle or something, because it's been swelling up. I don't think I can walk on it."

"Chloe-"

"Clark." She rightly anticipated exactly what he was going to say. "You have to go. You have to figure out a cure." He didn't respond, so she continued, her voice getting shrill and demanding. "Clark, you have to! You've got to go now, Curtis is going to kill you if you stay-"

"No he won't. He's messed up, but he's not a killer." Clark eased himself against the wall again, propping his knees against his chest. "And Chloe…I want us both out of here, and if I thought that I could get you out too, I would. But I won't go alone. Curtis has the only keys to a cure, and I…I need that cure."

Clark could feel Chloe building up to another objection, so he spoke first. "I want to take Lana to my family's Christmas party. I want to kiss her next to our tree like I've seen my dad do with my mom every year…I want Mom to shake me awake at five in the morning. I want Dad to put his hand on my shoulder when he's telling me something I'll remember for the rest of my life…I want-" and here, Chloe felt him looking in her direction. She smiled, even though he couldn't see it.

"I want to hug my best friend the next time she goes out of her way to help me out. Especially when no one else can or will. So I guess Curtis did one thing right. I never realized what a poison I'd made my own family and best friends. I was so scared of losing them, Chloe, I guess…I guess I almost did."

"Clark, you sound more like Jonathan Kent every day."

Clark smiled that instant, white smile he realized he hadn't shown in a long time. "He actually told me something like that after Mom got better. He said none of us are going to be around for ever, but we can't dwell on it. We just have to spend as much time as possible with the ones we love."

Chloe nodded quietly against the wall beside Clark. "That's good advice, Clark."

"Yeah, well…he's always right."

Chloe laughed. "Maybe you should tell him that when you find that cure."

Clark just smiled vaguely. "Maybe I should."

- - - - -


	8. Eight

- - - - -

"Mr. and Mrs. Kent! Is anyone home?"

Martha threw the door open to find someone gasping for breath, hands on the doorposts. "Lana! What is it?"

"Mrs. Kent, is Clark back?"

"Clark? No, why?" Jonathan came running around the corner.

"Lana, what's wrong? What happened to Clark?"

"I don't know. But Curtis, the boy who kidnapped him." Her voice dropped to a serious murmur. "He did something to Clark. Clark wouldn't admit it, but I know he did something, and now he's kidnapped Chloe, and Clark went after her-"

"What?" Martha shook her head rapidly. "Wha- how…?"

"I don't know, but Clark said he knew where Curtis was, and I haven't heard from him in an hour. I called his cell like seven times, and he's not answering."

"Lana." Jonathan stepped into the doorway. "Do you have any idea where Curtis may be?"

"No," Lana said despondently. "I mean- I used to know him pretty well, but after Whitney died, I haven't heard from him in ages."

"Maybe we can try Clark's phone again," Martha said, sounding unconvinced. Jonathan shook his head, silently agreeing with her; it wasn't very useful-sounding idea.

"Wait a sec." Lana put both hands on her temples, shutting her eyes. "Clark said something, when I picked up the phone…something about a foosball table?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Well that could be a myriad of places. His house, a warehouse, an arcade-"

"But it would have to be somewhere he could live without someone knowing, right?" Lana insisted. "Or somewhere he'd have access to." And then something seemed to click in her head. "Wait…" She looked up at the expectant faces of Clark's parents. "Oh my gosh…Whitney."

- - - - -

The door flung open for the second time that evening, and Clark and Chloe both blinked hard in the light again. "Time to chat, Clark," Curtis said flatly as he came striding inside.

Clark slid his hands behind his back, holding his feet close together, and hoped that Curtis wouldn't notice he'd been untied. Curtis came to stand in front of him and grabbed him by the arm. Clark saw his opportunity. He lunged forward, hitting Curtis in the middle, and driving him towards the back wall. Both boys collided with the basement wall with a SMACK that made Chloe flinch.

Curtis tried to get his hands around Clark's neck, but Clark slammed him against he wall again. "What's the cure, Curtis?"

Curtis gasped, disoriented by the impact. "There's…there's no cure-"

Clark shoved him against the wall again. "Tell me how to reverse the effects!"

Curtis gave a raspy laugh. "You can't. The meteor rocks are just too much for you-" WHAM "I wouldn't tell you even if there was a cure!" WHAM

"Clark-" Chloe whispered, noticing the trail of blood that was trickling down the side of Curtis' head.

Clark set his jaw. "Tell me what the cure is, or you're getting a dose."

He just sneered. "Clark, I'm all ready there."

"What do you mea-" Clark's words were cut off as Curtis suddenly charged at him, striking him in the gut and throwing him back onto the floor. Clark scrambled to his feet, but Curtis ran from the room and by the time Clark was on his knees, he was all ready coming back. Clark collapsed suddenly, crying out as Curtis turned a whole vial of something green and glowing onto his back.

"Clark!" Chloe screamed, crawling over to him.

"Don't you touch him, Chloe!" Curtis ordered, standing over Clark with a malicious glint in his eyes.

"Curtis, you don't get it, that stuff is deadly-"

"Chloe, I'm telling you." Curtis pulled a gun - a real one - from the back of his jeans and pointed it at her. "Don't go near him."

Chloe sat back on her ankles, watching Clark writhe silently in front of her, tears cascading down her cheeks. "Curtis, please, you're killing him…"

Curtis turned on her, eyes flashing. "Still? You're still falling for this loser, Chloe? He's just like me! He's exactly like me."

"No he's not," she whispered. "Clark is brave. And he's loyal and selfless. And now he's facing life without his parents without his friends, and still he's not-" she fixed Curtis with a meaningful stare. "He's not bitter. He's nothing like you, Curtis."

"AGH!" Curtis struck her across the face with the barrel of his gun and she toppled limply onto the floor.

"Chloe!" Clark gasped, trying to look if she was okay. But the white hot pain that shot down his back sent him into spasms again.

Curtis knelt beside him, all pretence of joviality gone. His voice was low and furious. "You think a single day goes by that the very memory of my supposed loved ones makes me sick? I hate them, Clark! When they touch me, it burns and turns me inside out. When they talk to me, my head spins. You know what? Want to know why, Clark?! Because those that are meant to love us, they'll always let us down. They leave, they die, they turn on you…it's better to feel nothing at all. It's better never to feel loved again."

Clark's voice was just as dangerous as he bit out, "You're wrong, Curtis."

"Am I?! Am I really, Clark? Then why the argument with your dad, huh? You're so freaked of never seeing him again that you practically hate him!"

The fact that Curtis had clearly been eavesdropping on his and Jonathan's argument made his stomach lurch, but what caught his attention was the second thing he'd said. "What do you mean, lose him?" He gasped. "Why- why would I lose him?" Had Curtis heard Clark talking about his dream? The idea made him feel sick.

"Don't be stupid, Clark, I know that your dad's running for Senator. He's going to disappear to Metropolis and you're never going to see him again. You hate him for it. I know, my dad left too!"

"Is that why you picked me?!" Clark demanded. The Kryptonite was evaporating slowly off his shirt in the cold, damp air and a little of his energy returned. "Because of our fathers?"

Curtis laughed again, harsh and low. He jerked his head towards Chloe. "Did you know I asked her to Spring Formal? Took all my guts, but I managed to ask her. She turned me down. I asked why, and do you know what she said?" his lip curled as he spoke. "She said 'Curtis, sometimes you make me nervous. You're so bitter.'" He kicked Clark sharply in the back and his whole body seized up as he cried out. "Chloe was scared of me, Clark! Scared! I loved her, I was nuts about her. She was the only girl I ever fell for, we were perfect; her mom left her, my dad left me, I knew she was the only one who would ever understand me. And she threw my pain in my face! And went to the Formal with YOU!"

He paced a few moments, fuming. "If she knew what a freak you are, Clark, how bitter you're capable of being, she'd be just as scared." He crouched down next to him, eyes glinting in the dim light. "If Chloe knew who you really were, she'd be terrified. You're better off without her, Clark. We're better off without everyone."

He stood up and Clark managed to work up the energy to speak again, the words coming out in spurts. "I thought- you said you…care about Chloe." He nodded limply to where Chloe was lying unconscious on the floor. "Is that what you…call tough love?"

Curtis snorted. "It's just what I've been telling you, Kent. Everyone you care about lets you down. Even the girl of our dreams." He smirked down at Clark, and studied the empty vial in his hand. "Clark, I picked you because Chloe thinks you and guys like you are so great just because they're better at pretending they're not bitter." He spat the word out. "We're all bitter. I've just embraced it. And sooner or later, you will too."

"I won't," he whispered tightly. "I'm never giving up on the people I care about. I'll take anything on for them." He braced himself for another blow. The fire in Curtis' eyes seemed indicative that one was coming, but it didn't.

"Yeah right," he sniffed, and walked out of the room.

Clark lay there for several moments, wishing the pain would recede faster. Limply, he pushed himself onto hands and knees and crawled slowly across the cold floor. "Chloe? Chloe…" He tried to flip her over without exactly touching her but his fingers brushed her cheek, and he flinched away. He x-rayed her chest and saw her heart beating steadily. He pressed his forehead to the cold floor, trying to pull himself together.

Eventually, he had the strength to stand, leaning against one of the damp walls. Still, Curtis hadn't returned. Then he heard the clink of vials outside the dark doorway. Muscling through the pain, he made it to the doorway, and glanced around, x-raying the whole area. He wasn't anywhere. Finally, Clark's eyes fell upon a tall shelf he couldn't quite penetrate. He blinked. It was a shelf of lead paint.

Reaching for a wrench from one of the worktables, he walked silently through the room, giving Curtis' makeshift lab a wide berth at seeing several chunks of Kryptonite scattered on the tabletop. He approached the shelf slowly, raising the wrench over his shoulder, then spun around the corner. Nothing. Just a pile of old boxes.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around his neck. He tried to swing the wrench, but Curtis grabbed his fist and smacked it against the shelf until Clark was forced to let go. Chocking, he tried to pry Curtis' arm off.

"Curtis-" He gasped. "You don't want to- kill anyone!"

Curtis laughed through clenched teeth. "I don't care. I lost my diploma over a couple lousy chemicals and a microscope. I lost my dad, my mom, Whitney…" Clark gasped again, clenching his eyes shut. "Lana, who was supposedly my friend, I haven't heard from her in a year. And Chloe…" He jerked hard on Clark's neck. "They don't care anymore, so why should I?"

Curtis pulled what looked like a knife from behind his back. Without pausing, he plunged it into Clark's shoulder, and Clark knew instantly what it really was. Clark screamed as the long, thin piece of Kryptonite sunk inches into his unprotected shoulder. Curtis let him go, sending him to the floor with a sharp SMACK then just stood there, not smirking, not glaring…just watching.

"I laced it with adrenaline. You won't die instantly, give Chloe some time to wake up or wait for your parents to find you. Maybe you'll make it, maybe you won't." He shrugged. "Just- go, Clark. And take all your heroic pretences and lies with you. 'Cause your façade of being something great, something special? It makes me sick."

As he turned to walk away, Clark couldn't even find the willpower to say anything to him. Despite the adrenaline Curtis had used, Clark could feel his consciousness ebbing away. The room swirled around him as he panted for air.

A loud CRASH followed by the tinny sound of metal hitting concrete came screaming through his ears. He couldn't look up, but suddenly felt someone beside him, breathing hard. "Clark! Oh my- Clark…"

Clark opened his eyes halfway, and whispered thickly, "Chloe…"

Chloe began to cry, hands fumbling feverishly around the Kryptonite protruding from Clark's shoulder. "Clark- what do I do, what do…tell me what to do."

"Chloe…Chloe my dad- ah!" His body convulsed again, his forehead breaking out in a cold sweat. Black lines spread from where the Kryptonite had penetrated his skin.

"Your dad?"

"Chloe, my phone!" Clark cried, hands clenching and unclenching. Chloe sprung to her feet and ran to where Curtis lay unconscious on the floor, a paint bucket lying in a pool of baby blue beside him. She rummaged through his pockets till she pulled out Clark's cell phone, holding down the #2 button. She scrambled back over to Clark, holding the phone tight to her ear.

"It's okay, Clark, it's okay, just hold on," she whispered shakily. "Yes, hello? Hello?"

"Chloe?"

"Mrs. Kent! You have to come, you've got to come now!" Chloe fought to keep her voice even, but her tears chocked her as she spoke. "Clark, he's- it's Kryptonite, I don't know what-"

"Where are you?" Martha sounded exactly how Chloe felt.

"Uh- Fordman's, the Fordman's basement!"

"Chloe, listen to me. Lana figured out you two might be there, Jonathan's going to arrive any minute. You have to keep Clark conscious."

Chloe looked down at Clark who shuddered again, head lolling weakly to the side. "How do I do that? Do- should I pull the Kryptonite out?"

"Can you?"

"I don't…I can try." Clark's head jerked forward he cried out in agony. Chloe's panic rose. "I have to do something!"

"Do it, Chloe." Martha's voice shook as she spoke. Chloe heart wrenched when she realized she must have heard Clark cry out.

"Kay, hang on a sec." Chloe put the phone down, leaning over Clark and grabbing the Kryptonite in both hands. The moment she touched it, Clark's voice rose another level as he screamed at the ceiling, his whole chest heaving. Chloe yanked her hands back as though she'd been stung. Snatching up the phone again, she panted into the receiver, feeling utterly helpless, "Mrs. Kent, I can't! The minute I touch him- it hurts him too much, it'll kill him! What do I do?!"

Chloe's head spun around as suddenly the door to the basement came slamming open. She almost broke down crying all over again when she saw Jonathan standing in the doorway, but she managed to shakily explain he'd arrived to Martha, then got her to agree to hang up.

Jonathan came sliding to his knees beside Clark. "Clark! Clark, can you hear me?"

Chloe had never seen Clark look so lethargic. His body still trembled feverishly as though it were trying to excrete the meteor rock from his system, but he couldn't handle the pain much longer.

"Dad- Dad, help me…" Clark gasped, hand scrambling for his father's arm, then letting go without the energy to cry out again.

"Clark…" Jonathan tried to grab for the Kryptonite, but Chloe stopped him.

"Mr. Kent don't! Curtis did something to him, if you touch him it's just- it's agony to him. It's like Kryptonite."

Jonathan's face paled, but Chloe was relieved to see that he was thinking hard. Then something clicked behind his eyes. "Chloe, Lana's upstairs with Mrs. Fordman. You need to keep them from coming down here, or we run the risk of them discovering Clark."

Chloe blinked hard, uncomprehending. She was so tempted to say "what does it matter if he dies?" but hated herself for even thinking that.

Jonathan seemed to know what was on her mind. "Chloe," he said seriously. "He's not going to die. Go on, hurry." Chloe scrambled to her feet, and forcing herself not to look back, ran up the stairs, slamming the door behind her.

Jonathan's breath shook as he leaned over Clark. He remembered when he and Martha had pulled the Kryptonite bullet from Clark's shoulder. His agony had rendered him unconscious not ten minutes after he'd been shot. He realized that Curtis must have put adrenaline on the tip of the Kryptonite to keep Clark conscious. His blood boiled at the thought, and yet- it was his son's only hope.

"Clark, listen to me." Clark's eyes were half closed and he panted, shoulders heaving spasmodically. "Son, you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

A bead of sweat slid down the side of Clark's head and behind his ear, and he flinched, eyebrows knitting, as though caught in a bad dream. "Dad…" he whispered. Jonathan leaned down to hear him. "I'm…I'm sorry."

Jonathan felt his throat closing. "I'm sorry too, son."

In one swift motion, Jonathan grabbed Clark by the shoulders, and hoisted him off the floor. Clark cried out faintly the moment he made contact with his father's hands, but he seemed too weak to react violently anymore. Pausing only briefly, praying this was the right action to take, Jonathan grabbed the sliver of Kryptonite and began to shove it into Clark's shoulder.

Clark chocked. His head jerked back, his entire body going rigid, but Jonathan kept pushing. When it penetrated the back of Clark's shoulder, the agonizing scream tore almost by force from his chest. He lurched, everything in him fighting to be unconscious.

Grabbing the point of the sliver, Jonathan pulled as hard as he could, whispering gently, "Hang in there Clark, hang on."

With a final tug, the Kryptonite came out and Jonathan hurled it across the basement as hard as he could. Clark slumped forward instantly, tears running down his cheeks. Jonathan caught him, holding him close, fingers searching for a pulse. There wasn't one.

"Clark…son, come on." Jonathan wrapped his arms around his son's shoulders, hugging him tight to his chest. "Son, you can do this. You can. You can do this."

Clark stirred, but Jonathan didn't look down, he just kept holding him tight. "Clark, c'mon…" There came a long, unbearable silence that lasted several minutes. In those short minutes, every argument, every mistake, every shade of guilt seemed blur into unimportance. Jonathan's hands went up and down Clark's back and shoulders over and over, willing him to revive.

Finally, Clark's chest heaved and he took in a great, gulping breath, head still resting limply against Jonathan's chest. He coughed, blinked hard, then shut his eyes again. "Dad…"

Jonathan closed his eyes, a single tear of relief cascading down his cheek and into Clark's tousled, sweaty hair. "I'm here, Clark."

- - - - -


	9. Nine

- - - - -

Clark would never forget the look on Chloe's and Lana's faces when his dad supported him out Mrs. Fordman's front door. Lana paled in relief, and she looked like she was going to faint. Chloe began to cry and ran across the lawn, hesitating when she reached him.

"It's okay," Clark whispered, arm still around Jonathan's shoulder so he could stand. "Dad did it, Chloe. I guess the sliver technically killed me and got rid of all the-" he lowered his voice. "The Kryptonite in my system. But the adrenaline and my bizarre immune system kept me alive."

Chloe just blinked a few tears down her cheeks, not really listening. Then she lunged forward, arms around his middle and cried into his bloodstained shirt. He let go of Jonathan long enough to put his arms behind her back, squeezing her weakly. "I really, really missed you, Clark," she cried.

"I missed you too." And he smiled so brilliantly, Jonathan felt some of the adrenaline that had wracked his system for the past hour fade away. Then Clark's knees buckled, and Chloe and Jonathan both caught him.

"Easy there," Jonathan said, putting Clark's arm around his shoulders again and the two of them crossed the lawn to where Lana stood, now accompanied by Martha, who it turned out had driven Lana's car over.

The rest of the evening was a blur in Clark's mind. He remembered his mother holding him closely, too emotional to cry. Lana had kissed him and said she'd see him tomorrow, then gotten in her car and driven slowly away. Two squad cars showed up not long afterwards, called in by Mrs. Fordman, and soon Curtis (still spattered in "thoughtful sky" blue) was led outside in handcuffs. He didn't even look at Clark as he was led away, but Clark could feel his anger burning daggers out the back of his head. He felt a twinge of pity all the same.

That night, Clark lay in his bed staring at the ceiling for a long time, a lot of different things on his mind. His parents had sent him to bed early after he'd fallen asleep on the short drive home, and because he still couldn't stand up on his own. But he wasn't tired, he was exhausted. It was very different.

After three hours of lying with his eyes wide open, he forced himself to sit up, and supporting himself on every piece of furniture between him and the kitchen, went to make some coffee. To his surprise, the light was all ready on in the kitchen and he turned the corner to find Jonathan sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.

"Glad I'm not the only one," Clark said quietly, and Jonathan smiled without turning around.

"I made you some, if you'd like."

Clark squinted at him as though waiting for the punch line. "Thanks…" He sat down across from his dad with a hot mug in his hands. "You're not telling me to go back to sleep? I thought you and mom wanted me to go to bed early. Which, by the way, I haven't done since I was eleven."

"Yes we did. And you couldn't get to sleep early when you were eleven either." They both laughed lightly and took sips of coffee. A silence, not uncomfortable but expectant, hovered between them. Clark broke it.

"Dad…I guess I'm a little beyond apologizing for this now, but I…the argument this afternoon."

Jonathan shook his head. "Chloe explained everything about what Curtis did to you, Clark, it wasn't you. There's nothing to forgive."

"But the stuff I said…"

Jonathan leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtfully at his son. "Why did you call me?"

Clark shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"Chloe told me when Curtis stabbed you, the first thing you said to her was to call me."

"I just…" Clark looked up at him, and said, shrugging matter-of-factly, "I knew if anyone could save my life it was you."

All the guilt in Clark's heart disappeared at the look on his father's face.

They finished their coffee almost simultaneously and Jonathan helped Clark back up the stairs to his room. They didn't say anything else to each other for the rest of the evening. They didn't really need to.

- - - - -

Clark gazed through his telescope across the sky, not really looking. His thoughts were on Curtis, on the things he'd said about Clark. He hated to admit it, but to an extent, Curtis had been right; he did hide his bitterness. He'd done it this morning at breakfast, when Jonathan asked him how he'd slept. He'd said "Oh, fine". No, he still wasn't fine. As long as he kept having that dream, he wasn't fine.

"I heard you can see Mars really well tonight." Clark turned around and saw Lana standing at the top of the stairs. She smiled brightly. "Did you find it?"

Clark smiled back, and nodded, fiddling with the adjustments on his telescope. "It's good to see you, Lana."

"You too. How're you feeling?"

He shrugged, stepping past the telescope, hands in his pockets. "I've been better, but…you know, I've been a lot worse."

She laughed. "Yeah, I…think I know what you mean." She hesitated at the confusion on his face, then explained, "Clark, I have something I wanted to- something I need to say to you." He just nodded. "I…want to apologize for calling you a liar," she said, shrugging simply. "I shouldn't have. And I shouldn't distrust you so often either. I don't know why I do some of the things I do, Clark, but that doesn't make it right. I'm just…very sorry for all the times I haven't stuck up for you. I should have had more faith in you than that."

He could tell there were tears fighting their way to the surface, so he made his way swiftly to her and hugged her tightly. She didn't cry, but held him like she didn't want to let go. He smiled. "I guess sometimes we get so worried about the ones we care about, we end up pushing them away. Sort of to protect ourselves from getting hurt when something happens to them."

"I guess so," she whispered. "What do we do?"

"Well," Clark rested his chin on the crown of her head. He could smell her strawberry vanilla conditioner. "I guess all we can do is spend as much time with the people that mean the most to us." She nodded and after a moment, he held her at arm's length, smiling into her eyes. "So speaking of: Lana, would you come to my family's Christmas party with me?"

She grinned, rubbing his forearm. "C'mon, Clark, you know you don't have to ask."

"Yeah, I do." His smile widened. "Will you?"

She didn't even pause. "Of course I will." Then added, "Thanks, Clark."

- - - - -


	10. The End

- - - - -

Dirt between his fingers, snow in his hair. It was freezing, but face burned with tears. He looked up to see a dozen black outlines of people- friends, family, strangers -all of them walking away from him. Abandoning him. He wanted to shout, to tell them to come back. But they faded like shadows.

A hand slipped into his, but when he looked to see who was standing beside him, they were all ready walking away, their back to him. They didn't even look around when he called after them.

"Clark…Clark?"

He walked across the snowy ground, now completely alone. Up ahead there was a tall archway made of ice. He ran to it. As he walked through the doorway, he suddenly realized he was holding something in his arms. He looked down. It was a man.

He carried the man through the snow, setting him down gently on a great, pearly slab of ice. He knelt beside him, tears coursing down his cheeks. "Dad…I'm sorry."

_Kal-El?_

Clark jumped to his feet, the snow around him kicking up like a whirlwind. "Bring him back! I'll kill you, you hear me?! He's my father!" His swore he heard his heart snap. "I need him! I can't do this without him! I…I can't." Suddenly he had no strength to shout. He sank to his knees, a splinter of Kryptonite sticking out awkwardly from his chest. "Dad…"

He fell over, sprawled on the snowy ground. But the snow was gone, replaced with dry, spongy dirt. He gazed upward, staring into the rafters of his barn.

"Clark."

He sat up slowly, aching a little. He rose to his feet, shakily running to the barn door. He heaved hard on the door, but when it sprang open, the light beyond it blinded him, and he stumbled back, arm over his eyes. Someone was coming out of the light. He squinted painfully, trying to see. Then-

"Dad."

"Hello, son."

Clark ran, throwing his arms around Jonathan, resting his chin on his father's shoulder. Hoping never to let go. And Jonathan gave him the biggest, strongest, hardest hug he'd ever had.

"I can't believe it's you."

- - - - -

Clark jerked awake. He sat in the darkness for a long time before fumbling for his watch and hitting the indiglo. 5:14 am. He lay back down, arm over his forehead, thinking. Sure enough, it had been the dream. The one that haunted him for weeks now.

But that last part…the light in the barn, the…the hug. That was new. He found himself smiling for some reason. Maybe he was moving on after all. Maybe Jonathan was going to be just fine, maybe…His heart sank a little as he woke up a little more. Maybe not.

Clark rolled over, bunching his pillow up under his head, trying to get comfortable again. His fingers brushed the photo that still lay beneath his pillow. Shutting his eyes, breathing deeply, he chose to believe everything was going to be okay. His dad had promised the two of them would go looking for a tree tomorrow, give them a chance to talk. They hadn't done that for awhile.

Yeah. This was what real life looked like. Nothing lasted forever, he knew that, but…some things did.

That night, he dreamt Chloe arranged a Smallville High reunion and invited Lex, who brought Shelby as a date. Then Lois came three hours late, and spent the whole time drinking punch and complaining about how Curtis kept trying to ask her out, and finally she told him to go ask Lana instead. Clark went to find Lana, not wanting her to be alone with Curtis, but when he found her, she was sitting perfectly peaceful in a field of strange, bluish flowers. The dream ended somewhere in the middle of a very gentle, vivid kiss. Clark's eyes opened to a golden light spilling off his bedroom windowsill.

"Hey, sleepyhead." He rolled over and found Jonathan standing in his doorway.

"Hey," he murmured running his hands up and down his face a few times. "Time is it?"

"8:05."

"Really?" He sat up.

"Yep. C'mon, hustle hustle! The cows-"

"Aren't gonna feed themselves, yeah yeah…" Clark pulled his socks on. "Be there in a sec."

"Hurry up, your mother's oatmeal isn't great but it's even worse cold," Jonathan said and left, his heavy footsteps resonating loudly as he went downstairs.

* * *

_**The End**_


End file.
